Favourite Liar
by amsayy
Summary: The one in which Kyle Broflovski ruins his perfect life by sleeping with Eric Cartman. Repeatedly. Kyle Broflovski quickly becomes everyone's favorite liar.
1. Chapter One

Favorite Liar - The Wrecks

Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh are a cliche. High school sweethearts. Best friends who fell in love. From the chaste kiss they shared during the summer before freshman year, they knew. Well, everyone supposed it was inevitable. And since the moment they went to their respective parents, clutching each other's hands and announced themselves to the world, Kyle and Stan had been inseparable.

 _ **June, 2017**_

"Dude, really?" Kyle whined, flopping forward onto Stan's bed, burying his face in a pillow. "That is so _weak_."

Stan shuffled through his closet, tossing clothes more suited for warmer weather on the redhead whining on his bed. "I know, it blows. But they won't budge!" Stan rolled his eyes, watching Kyle roll over onto his back with a huff and a pout on his face. And Stan was somehow referred to as the overgrown child?

"Stop sulking, Ky, Christ, it's not you who had to spend three months trapped in a box with the leader of the Feminazi Regime." Out of the two of them, at least Kyle had freedom. He wasn't the one being forced on a three month long family RV trip to bond before Shelly moved to New York.

Grumbling, Stan chucked a pair of yellow swim shorts onto Kyle's head, blocking his view of the ceiling, "two years of women's studies and now you can't even breathe the same air without oppressing her."

"You're missing our fourth anniversary, Stan." Kyle yanked the shorts off his head, not caring much about the whole Shelly problem, and sat up to begin folding. He had no doubt in his mind that Stan would stuff it in haphazardly if he didn't. Plus, it was a good excuse to hide his pouting behind a mop of curls.

"We'll have dozens more, babe, it's fine. We'll face time. I'll even send you flowers or some shit like that," Stan shrugged, dropping to his knees to drag a suitcase out from under the bed, looking up through thick black lashes at his boyfriend, only to roll his eyes. "You're like, seven, dude. Cut that shit out, I'm not dealing with my dad if I refuse to go."

Instantly, Kyle's eyes narrowed, and he chucked a stack of clothes at Stan. It was worth a shot. If they really tried, there'd be a way to make Stan stay. "Fine. What's a few months when we've got the rest of our lives, I guess. Besides, I suppose a few months away from your sorry ass would do us both some good. You're starting to piss me off, y'know." Kyle smirked, kicking back at Stan when he got a punch to calve.

"Fuck off, Kyle," Stan laughed, smacking back at Kyle's feet as they swung around, trying to hit him. Managing to grab ahold of an ankle, Stan yanked. Triumphantly, Stan pumped a fist in the air as Kyle landed on his ass in the suitcase with an _oomph_.

"Go-o-al!"

Grabbing the other half of the suitcase, Stan grinned as he tried folding it over with one hand, the other attempting to hold Kyle, who was trying to escape with vain as he laughed, "Stop!"

"Nope, I'm gonna pack you to take with me. You're skinny enough to fit." And it was almost true. With a bit of curling, Kyle could very well fit in his suitcase. Stan had even managed to get it closed after he semi-forcibly stuffed Kyle's legs in there. Through the case, Kyle spoke, "yeah, maybe. If you want to open it and find me dead."

Kyle pushed his way out, head first with the case still on top of him. "I mean, who knows, maybe you're into that. Maybe you're just waiting for me to kick the bucket so you can keep me as your weird little stuffed Kyle," he continued as he crawled his way out, despite Stan adding more of his weight to try to keep him there.

"Not a bad idea, you'd stop preaching," Stan said, smug as Kyle sent him a 'look' before Kyle spoke. "One to talk, ever since you decided to go vegan, you've been a huge pain in the ass. I swear, Cartman is gonna put ground dog in one of your kale smoothies one day out of spite."

Stan visibly shuddered at the thought. It'd been a good year of cutting out meat, followed by all animal products. The last thing he wanted to think about was slurping up someone's puppy. "Gross, dude. Fuck. What am I going to eat when I'm gone? You know my dad thinks the vegan thing is bullshit."

To be honest, Kyle himself thought it was a bit extreme. There had already been some arguments between them, so Kyle elected to keep his mouth shut in favour of giving Stan a small smile. Moving to his knees, Kyle placed his hands on Stan's thighs before leaning in for a small kiss. "I'm going to miss you," Kyle said, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Stan's shoulder. "What am I gonna do for three months?"

"You'll have Kenny, he's starting a YouTube channel or something. Says he's gonna use Butters and his old viral fame to get subscribers or something. And Cartman is gonna need someone to keep him from burning the town down." Stan pulled Kyle in closer when he heard the groan, wrapping his arms around the redhead and burying his face in the curls.

The last thing Kyle wanted to do was be Cartman's babysitter. "Great, just what I wanted. To hang around with that fat ass while Butters records Kenny jumping off buildings trying to do hardcore parkour." The whole 'white boy doing dangerous shit' YouTube channel thing was going to get Kenny killed again, Kyle knew it...

Chuckling, Stan inhaled before pressing a kiss to the hair. "I love you, dude. You'll be fine. I'll be fine. It's only like, twelve weeks." God, it sounded dreadful...

"Love you too, Stan." Kyle mumbled, squishing his face into Stan's chest. Between the vegan diet and protein powders, sports teams and work out routines with Kenny, Stan was hard. "You're like a rock, dude. You'd do with some fat on you, you know. Be a bit more comfortable for me."

Stan simply rolled his eyes, smushing Kyle harder against him to make him suffer more. "The ladies love my muscles, though!" Stan argued, only to feel a small pinch before Kyle started to speak again. "Whatever, dude. When do you leave tomorrow?"

Back to the sore subject. "6am, apparently. Dad wants a head start, as if we don't have three months to do what we want to do." Everyone else was packed, the RV was outside, and it was just Stan who was waiting until last minute to pack his bag. It was pretty much useless to do now, with only a few more hours before Kyle's curfew.

Kicking the suitcase away, Stan leaned back onto the floor and pulled Kyle on top of him. "I'll pack when you're gone, make the most of a few hours alone before you gotta leave and they come back." Kyle sat up, legs on either side of Stan's hips, and he quirked a brow. "Oh yeah? Got anything in mind or do I gotta do all the work again?" Kyle all but purred, his warm hands slipping under the hem of Stan's shirt to caress his boyfriends abdomen with light fingertips. Feeling Stan shiver under him was so satisfying, Kyle couldn't help but grin down at the other young man.

"I've got, uh," Stan stuttered as Kyle's fingers ran up his sides, light as feathers. "Got an-an idea." Kyle hummed in question, his eyes focused on Stan's face as he watched Stan tilt his head back and let out a sigh. "We could, ehh-" Kyle felt the muscles under Stan's flesh twitch, the light movements of the pads of his finger tips always got Stan riled up. "Could have sex," Stan mumbled, whining when he felt a light slap just below his naval.

It was worth the ask. Any time they got close, Kyle wasn't ready. Stan respected that, of course. But with Kyle on top of him, the pressure of his ass paired with those maddening little tickle-touches... Stan was a teenage boy, he had needs.

Not that Kyle skimped on him, or anything. They fooled around plenty. Everything but going the full mile. "I'm not having sex with you only to leave, dude. Be real." Kyle mumbled, leaning forward after placing his hands on the center of Stan's chest, pressing small kisses along the other boys stubbly jaw.

Nipping his way down Stan's jaw, up his neck and to his ear lobe, Kyle stopped briefly. "I'll make sure you don't forget me, though," he whispered before sucking Stan's earlobe into his mouth.

With a small moan and a shudder, Stan planted his hands on Kyle's rear, pressing them closer together as Stan brought his hips up slightly to grind into Kyle's. "I love you so fuckin' much, dude," he cooed, fingers digging into Kyle's jeans.


	2. Chapter Two

_Playlist: The People Who Raised Me - Gregory and the Hawk_

 _ **July, 2017**_

It's been three weeks. Three long, miserable, far to hot weeks. Though this meant there was just shy of nine left before the Stan returned, and school started again. Look at the positives.

 _God,_ Kyle was sick of looking at the positives. There was only so much gallivanting around the town he could do, while Kenny scaled walls and jumped rooftop to roof top. Poor Butters, roped into being his personal camera man. On several occasions so far in the short weeks, Kenny had missteps, slipping off cliff edges. Or miscalculating the jumping distance only to crash into drying bushes below while Butter's had something crossed between a heart attack and a panic attack. Maybe today Kyle could finally do what he'd been craving to do since Stan left.

Lay in bed, iMessage his boyfriend, and watch YouTube videos all within the comfort of his bed. He'd even compromise with the nasty part of himself telling him to go outside, and open the window and lay in the sun on his sheets like a cat.

Of course, that didn't happen. Trying to stop Kenny from doing anything was nearly impossible. And the tree outside his window was far to easy for a child to scale, let alone a seventeen year old with blonde ambition on becoming the next big viral sensation. Pulling the duvet over his head, Kyle growled when he heard Kenny push the window up. "Fuck off, man. Come on," Kyle groaned, feeling Kenny's weight on his legs and bed. Kyle's house had a perfectly good front door, he didn't understand why the fuck Kenny insisted on climbing through his window every god damned morning.

"Christ, you're a crotchety son of a bitch in the morning without your butt buddy, Kyle," he heard Kenny say, voice muffled as he slipped under the blankets to lay flat on top of the redhead. Kenny was lighter than Stan, but since the two of them had been hitting the gym, Kenny wasn't the most welcome weight on top of Kyle. Cruel torture. "Want a kiss good morning? Stan wont mind. He told me to take care of you." Kyle could hear the stupid grin in Kenny's voice, and before he had time to respond he felt the blonde's tongue press against his cheek.

" _Eugh!"_ Kyle cried, wiping his cheek before shoving Kenny to the floor, taking the duvet with him. "Nasty, dude. Who the fuck raised you?" Kyle shivered involuntarily as the wetness on his cheek cooled, reminding him of the many places Kenny's tongue could have been. It worked, though. Kyle knew he wasn't getting his way today. One look out the window showed clear blue skies, cicada's marking the hot weather. Rain from a few days ago still lingered in the form of humid air. A perfect day, he supposed. "Y'know, Stan also told me to look after you, Ken." Kyle rolled his eyes, watching Kenny's face light up with pure mirth. "Wipe the thoughts from your mind. He'd kick both our asses."

Kenny was no threat. All talk, mostly. He'd been flirty and suggestive since they were kids, and it wasn't going to stop simply because Stan and Kyle had been together for almost four years. It was hardly as if it made either he or Stan jealous. Ken was as loyal as they came, and wouldn't dare betray his two closest friends. Neither would Stan or Kyle to each other. But even still, in a fight, Stan'd win hands down. The thought must have brought a smug look to his face, because Kenny handed him some clothes and fluffed Kyle's red curls. "Yeah yeah, your boyfriend can beat me up, we know," Kenny said, eyes rolling.

Lifting a finger, Kyle motioned for Kenny to turn around so he could change.

He didn't, and Kyle just sighed and slipped out of his pajamas and into the shorts and tank top Kenny had grabbed from the laundry basket his mother had brought up the evening before.

Kyle followed Kenny down the stairs, letting the blonde lead him through Kyle's own home. In the living room, Kyle heard Ike. Weird, since their parents were out. Not that it wasn't the first time Ike was heard speaking to himself. "Ike, what are you do-," Kyle asked, entering the room. Ah, right.

"What's a pretty little thing doing with a fat fuck like this, hmm?" Kenny asked, leaning in the doorway. Kyle shot his elbow into Kenny's side, shooting him a glare. "He's thirteen, Kenny, back off." Kenny shrugged, not caring. He never did. Kyle was certain Ike liked the attention, anyway. His younger brother's face flushed red, while Cartman let out a huff of indignation. "I'm not fat, poorboy."

Well, he was. Cartman could deny it all he wanted, but compared to stick thin Kenny, Ike's short and pre-teen frame, and Kyle's own leanness, he was pretty fucking fat. The room stayed silent, before Ike piped up. "He's just big boned, right?" Cartman's arms crossed over his chest, and he nodded. "See. The prodigy here knows. Maybe you dumb fucks should learn." Kyle was certain Ike just didn't want to piss him off.

Kenny still didn't get his explanation, though, and made several hand gestures between the Canadian and Cartman. "Whatever, why are you two together?"

"Mom's got him teaching Ike the basics of piano, I think. Or guitar." One of the two. Cartman could play both, and incredibly well, for some weird fucking reason. To be honest, it grated on Kyle's nerves. Top marks in all classes, except music. He couldn't play anything worth shit, whereas since being forced to play recorder in fifth grade, Cartman had been naturally musical. God, it was so fucking irritating. Even seeing Cartman in his living room, ready to teach his genius little brother how to be some sort of musical genius had him clenching his fists.

Kyle worked his ass off to be perfect. Ike was born it. And Cartman, fuck. Cartman did it out of spite to piss him off.

As Kyle stewed quietly, he met Cartman's eyes and if his self control wasn't almost perfect, Kyle would have launched himself at the brunet to beat that smug little 'I know what you're thinking' look off his face. "Fuck that, Ike, come with us," Kenny said, snapping Kyle out of his own thoughts of assault. "You can come too, fat boy."

Kyle was gonna kill Kenny, wait for him to come back to life, and kill him again. It was one thing for Kenny to hit on his little brother ('So? He's a sophomore already.') but it was another to continue to ruin his already miserable mood by inviting Eric Cartman to hang out. They were friends, sure. But mostly by association at this point. They spent more time fighting than getting along, the soul purpose of Cartman hanging out with them was to get a rise out of Kyle. And it worked every time, and every time Kyle and Stan told him to not let it.

Wouldn't that be fucking nice?!

Kenny died. Slipped out of a tree, bounced on a few branches on the way down, cracked his head open on the road and was finished off by a car. Trying to show off. It didn't phase Kyle, or Cartman. But Ike was a mess. "Stop being a little bitch, Ike, you've seen worse!"

"Shut up, Cartman, he's a kid!" Kyle yelled, holding a sobbing Ike against his chest. It was a pretty rough one, on Kenny's end. Sure, Ike had been through a lot in his own little short life, but he hadn't seen his friends die enough to not be used to it the way he and Cartman and Stan were. And Kyle suspected it was more the gruesomeness of the whole thing that caused this little panic attack. Pushing Ike back, Kyle wiped at his face and gently slapped his cheeks. "Go home, he'll be back tomorrow, he'll be fine. It just looks bad," Kyle reassured, giving Ike a little shove in the direction of their house. He'd be fine, Butters still got worked up over watching Kenny die repeatedly, but the little blonde still remained positive.

Watching Ike leave, Kyle turned to glare at Cartman. "You're such a fucking asshole, Cartman." Kyle huffed, the afternoon heat beating down on them. Through the day, he could feel the humidity in the air expanding his hair, which was now growing uncomfortable with sweat and moisture from the air. Slipping a band off his wrist, Kyle pulled it off his neck and into a loose ponytail in the middle of his head. Instantly cooler.

"What?" Kyle snapped, noticing the stare Cartman was giving him. Cartman shook his head quickly, and shrugged. "Nothing," he said. "You just look like a chick. You need a fucking hair cut. It looks stupid." Gesturing with his head for them to get moving, he gave one last look at Kenny's trail of blood and mutilated body on the hot tarmac. Kyle trotted a few steps to meet up beside him. "Well it's a good thing I don't do my hair for you, I like my hair this length," Kyle replied, resisting the urge to kick him. It was long, sure. And once, Stan and he had stolen Shelly's straightener and it had come down to below his shoulders.

It had sprung back up within a few hours.

Somehow, the ended up at Cartman's house. The idea of going home to a whimpering Ike, and his parents wasn't ideal. Sinking into Cartman's couch, Kyle pulled his phone from his pocket to see the picture message from Stan. It sent a flutter through his whole person, his body relaxing as Kyle smiled down at it. Momentarily, Kyle forgot whose company he was in, in favour of his little day dream. Until he felt the couch sink down, and Cartman's irritating voice cutting through his thoughts. "So, how is our favourite little eco hippy?"

Pursing his lips, Kyle locked his phone and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Fine. He's in the Grand Canyon, right now. He doesn't look miserable." It was a good thing, Kyle supposed. But Stan was having a decent amount of fun, and Kyle was here. Without him and bored.

"You're such a little bitch without him, Kyle, fuck. Stage five clinger." Kyle growled, whipping one of Liane Cartman's throw pillows at her son's fat fucking face. "Fuck you, fat ass. I am not." Okay, maybe a little bit. But it was the first time they'd been separated this long in years... "Stan... We've been together forever. Being gone this long feels like, I dunno..." Kyle trailed off, turning to put his legs on the couch and sit sideways. "Like a part of me is gone. Not that you'd get it. You couldn't feel love it it kicked you in the face."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Oh please. This is unhealthy. Kenny say's you've been moping around for weeks. It's so pathetic. Get over it. Stan isn't coming back because you're here pissing on everyone's parade." Kyle's body was growing tense again, the brief moment of bliss he had gone the moment Cartman started talking. "It's not pathetic, you shitstain! Fuck you. Don't act like you know shit!" Perhaps the small part of him knew Cartman was right, and that was why he was beginning to get so riled up. Kenny had essentially said the same thing the other day. Even his parents and Ike mentioned it. Said perhaps this was good. They'd be able to learn to live without each other for a bit.

"Stan's probably glad to get away from your clingy ass for a bit. Be able to chat up hot girls across the country, and shit." Kyle could hear his teeth grinding in his head. "Cartman, I swear to god, shut up!" Kyle's voice was rising, but Cartman's eyes narrowed and that shit eating smirk came on his face. "Three months away from you is a lot of time to fool around with other people, Ka-ahl." Cartman crooned, leaning forward on his knees to get closer and look Kyle in the eyes. They were on fire. "He might come back and not even _want_ you anymore, Ka-ahl."

Kyle reminded himself of a pterodactyl the way he screeched, launching himself forward to close the short distance between them to wrap his hands around Cartman's collar. "Shut up! I swear to fucking god, you fat fuck!" Kyle shook the other boy, hoping his weight would be enough to keep Cartman down. Not likely, since he was probably double Kyle's own size. "You're just fucking jealous. Jealous of me and Stan! Loving parents, loving families, we're happy together. We're in love and you have no one! Fucking no one, Cartman! All by your fucking self while you're mom's the town bicycle!"

Before Kyle quite knew what was happening, the two of them had rolled to the floor, growing more physical as Cartman took great offense to any negative words said about his mother. "Oi, don't fucking talking shit about my mom you fucking kike!" Kyle's head hit the floor, Cartman on top of him, and grunted. He kicked his knee upward, aiming for Cartman's crotch only to hit him in the thigh. "Get off me! I'll fucking kick you ass, Cartman!" God, he was so heavy.

Managing to squirm out under him, Cartman made a grab for an ankle to drag Kyle back. "Fuck you, jew!" Cartman yelled, only to hear his nose crack from the force of Kyle's left foot hitting him square in the face. "What the fuck?!" Too far? Kyle figured everything was fair game now. It had escalated, and Cartman was dragging him back to pin him to the floorboards. "Calm the fuck down, Kyle, fuck!" Cartman held him down by the shoulders, both their chests heaving.

For a few long moments, they stared at each other, eyes blazing and cheeks flushed. Blood slowly dripping from Cartman's nose, the beginnings of a bruise beginning to blossom under Cartman's skin. Kyle's head tilted slightly, wondering if Cartman knew he had freckles. So light they were barely there... Kyle hadn't ever noticed them before. The redhead blinked, shocked slightly as a drop of blood from Cartman's nose hit him on the cheek. It brought focus to the fact that Cartman was suddenly much closer. When did that happen..?

"What?" Kyle whispered, brows furrowing in confusion before he felt Cartman's lips against his moment. Instantly his body tensed like a board, in shock. But his first instinct wasn't to scream. Wasn't to try and kick Eric Cartman off him. Wasn't even to try and bite his tongue out. Because Kyle suddenly felt like a dehydrated man who found an oasis in the desert. Well, if said man was furious at the oasis for insulting his water supply at home or something...

Kyle wasn't thinking straight. Cartman felt electric on top of him, and Kyle felt starved for attention. If the other boy ever said anything, Kyle'd be screwed. He shouldn't kiss back, but he was, teeth digging into Cartman's lower lip, the kiss growing rougher the longer they stayed together. The initial shock of it all wearing off, leaving Kyle to be furious again. But for countless other reasons; himself. Cartman. Stan leaving. Kenny dragging him out. Kenny dying, Ike crying. Every moment between Stan leaving and now leading up this point as if it was all out of his control.

God, he was so _fucked._

Kyle doesn't know how he got here. Well, technically he _does_ know how he got here. They went up the stairs, used their legs and everything. It wasnt a particularly difficult concept to grasp, yet somehow Kyle found himself unable to recall just how this happened. Up against Eric Cartman's door, the taste of blood on how tongue from the nose that Kyle is sure he broke with his kick to the face. How did a fight over something so _petty_ lead him here?

"I hate you," Kyle mumbled, moving his mouth away from Eric's in favour of trailing downward to suck bruise so into Cartman's skin. He wasn't... Cartman wasn't his, per se, but Kyle felt a strange need to mark where he'd been. As if it was wise to show the world just exactly what they were doing...

Lips against Cartman's throat, he heard the other young man laugh. "I think you hate yourself, Kyle." Cartman's voice was hoarse, a tone Kyle hadn't ever personally heard and it caused arousal to shoot through his veins. Just what he needed, more of a clouded judgement. But Kyle couldn't help but laugh in return, biting down harshly where clavicle met neck. "No, I fucking _hate_ you, nice try though." It wasn't beneath Eric Cartman to use manipulation tactics, and Kyle wasn't going to fall for the trap to tricking him into his own self loathing. No. Kyle hated Cartman. It burned in his veins and made him see red nearly every time Cartman opened his fat fucking mouth.

Just thinking about it angered Kyle, who threaded his fingers into Eric's hair at the base of his scalp before tugging. "I hate you so fucking much, so fucking much." Kyle continued to mumble, marring as much of Eric's skin as his teeth could get ahold of. As if Cartman minded. There was sick satisfaction, Kyle considered it a power trip on his part, hearing the large one moan, pressing their hips harder together against the door. Until Cartman's hand found their way to the base of Kyle's ponytail, yanking back violently to look each other in the eyes.

Kyle wasn't used to brown ones.

"You're so full of shit, Kyle," Cartman said, a smirk on his lips as he tugged further, exposing Kyle's neck in some strange display or forced submission. It was almost demeaning, and still Kyle found himself weak for it if the involuntary moan was anything to go by. "Hot, but full of shit," Eric mumbled, one hand strong in his hair, the other slipping up Kyle's shirt to pull it up and over his head.

Slipping his hands between them, Kyle fiddled with the button and zip on Cartman's jeans, pushing them down when he got them open for Cartman to step out of.

"Yeah, well... You have freckles," Kyle countered, laughing when he felt Cartman's teeth dig into his shoulder.


	3. Chapter Three

-

Kyle Broflovski had sex with Eric Cartman.

Kyle Broflovski wanted to throw himself out the window.

Instead, Kyle stared up at the ceiling. Cartman was milling about downstairs. Distantly, Kyle could hear the cupboards open, shut. The sound of things shuffling about. But he wasn't listening, not really. He was too focused on... well... Kyle groaned, covering his head with a pillow. He could feel a slight dampness on it, realizing quickly it was from when he bit into it to keep himself from crying out, while his ass was in the air. While Eric fucking Cartman nipped and kissed down his spine. With two fingers inside him.

Kyle screamed quietly into it, kicking at the mattress like a toddler having a temper tantrum after being sent to their room for causing trouble. Maybe he could suffocate himself. Everyone would think Cartman did it. Kyle would be a poor victim, taken too soon. They'd mourn him, hold some vigil with candles in cups. Christ, his mother would shit bricks and start World War III. Stan would be heart broken, but he'd move on. Not be betrayed, if Kyle just did everyone a favour and just smothered himself with Cartman's pillow. Though, that'd condemn Cartman to false rape charges... Kyle wasn't _that_ cruel. Was he? It'd save himself a whole lot of trouble.

God, he was so extra.

Now that the anger had subsided, the arousal was long gone, and the high from his orgasm over, Kyle hated himself. Sure, he hated Cartman. But currently? Kyle was incandescent with self loathing. He felt dirty. Sticky and sweaty from his and Cartman's elicit affair and the summer heat. And he felt... guilty. So fucking guilty. Less so because it happened, because maybe, just maybe, Stan would get it... But mostly, Kyle felt guilty because he _enjoyed_ it. There was no denying it. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't with Stan. His ass hurt, his back hurt. Hell, his elbows and knees hurt despite being on the mattress. It wasn't as if Cartman had made it all too comfortable. But Kyle enjoyed it nonetheless and he felt disgusted at himself for it.

"What are you doing?" Kyle heard, tensing up immediately. Cartman was back. Upon removing the pillow, Kyle sat and gave Eric a look of hatred. "Are you seriously eating Cheesy Poofs right now?" He spat. What the fuck was wrong with him?! Kyle watched as Cartman moved to sit on his computer chair, rolling it over to prop his feet on his bed, ripping open the bag. Here Kyle was, battling with his shame, while Cartman sat in his boxers looking as if this was another God damned day for him! "I'm hungry," Cartman shrugged, tossing something onto the bed to land between Kyle's naked legs. "Your boyfriend tried FaceTiming you. Three times," the larger teen continued, and Kyle didn't miss the eye roll.

Stan. Stan wanted to talk to him, see him face to face, tell each other about their mornings and say they missed each other and that they loved each other. All while Kyle was upstairs- Kyle's cheeks burned as he remembered- whining for Cartman not to stop. He felt sick. Kyle felt all sorts of things, mind confused, stomach churning and heart aching. When Kyle looked down at it, scrolling through the lock screen at the received messages, he saw his reflection. Covered in love bites. And what looked to be an actual bruise from a bite on his shoulder. How the hell was he supposed to cover those up? They trailed up his throat. Kyle locked his phone for a better view, and used his other hand to trail the blotches of broken capillaries from his collar bone up to just behind his ear. Everyone was going to know. And everyone was going to know it sure as shit wasn't Stan Marsh.

Cartman was no better. Kyle noticed when he looked back up, Cartman staring at him intently. He'd washed his face, nose having stopped bleeding a long while ago. Kyle should do the same. There was tight, dried red stains on his face from the blood. But the bruise around his nose was now prominent. It was swollen, too. In any other situation, Kyle would have commented it was karma that a Jew gave Cartman a large, Jew-like nose. He didn't. Kyle opened his mouth to do so, only to say;

"Please don't tell Stan."

Kyle couldn't help but feel as if Cartman would have laughed, if it wasn't for the clear break in his voice. Clutching his phone, Kyle held it to his chest as if it was some sort of security blanket. He could feel his throat close in the way that signaled a sob was about to escape if he didn't shut it down soon enough. Kyle didn't cry. That was a rule. Not since he was a kid. But Kyle didn't understand why he couldn't force it away. He brought his hands to his mouth, iPhone still clutched between them as he bit his knuckles to mask what felt like some cross between a gag and a whimper. "Kyle..?"

He didn't hear Cartman. Or really see him, with the vision going blurry from tears that welled in his eyes. He let out one final choked sob, followed by several pants before furiously wiping at his eyes. It was almost as if he was about to have a panic attack. Ike had them, Stan did as well. Tweak was in a constant state of it and if what Kyle was feeling was akin to one, he wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"I won't tell, dude. I'm not interested in getting my ass kicked by your hippy jock boyfriend." Cartman said, Kyle staring at him with confusion before remembering what he asked. The few seconds of feeling like impending doom felt a lot longer. Kyle needed to calm down. Relax, a moment. Put his mind on something else. Literally anything else. Spotting his clothes on the floor, Kyle hopped off the bed to pull them on, feeling instantly less vulnerable once he was no longer in the buff.

Without a word, Kyle made way for the bathroom, not wanting to look at himself in the mirror. Eyes down turned to focus on the taps, he turned the cold to high before splashing it on his face. The cold was a relief, clearing his head while he scrubbed his face clean. Kyle fumbled blindly, eyes closed to avoid getting water in them before rubbed his skin half dry with a nearby hand towel. Only then did he look in the mirror to see everything in Ultra High Definition clarity.

Sighing in defeat, Kyle cursed. "Fuck me."

"I already did," Cartman said, and Kyle watched his mouth drop and a laugh escape his lungs. He couldn't help but smirk, lips parted, at the insanity of it all. With a shake of his head, Kyle ran his hand through his hair as he left the bathroom to return to Cartman's room, only to bump into him in the hall. "You're an ass," Kyle said, trying to fight the turn of his lips. Brushing past him, Kyle pushed open the bedroom door before sinking onto the mattress, legs hanging over the edge as he stared upwards. Moments later, Kyle felt Eric do the same.

"Your emotions are running across your face at a mile a minute," the brunet noted. Kyle sighed.

"Yeah, I'm trying to figure them all out," he said. "I'm... I'm fucking furious. At you. This is your fault. At me. It's also my fault. I'm disgusted with myself. I feel like shit. I fucked one of my frien-" Kyle was cut off, turning his head to shoot a glare when Cartman spoke. "No, you got fucked."

"Whatever, Cartman, shut the fuck up. I feel like a dick. What am I supposed to do? I can't tell Stan. It'd... it'd break him. I know that sounds cocky, I can hear your eyes roll." Maybe it was a bit narcissistic to think so highly of himself, but Stan and Kyle both knew their relationship was their _everything_. "Stan and I... we're each others world, dude. We have plans. We've got colleges picked out. Back ups. We know what we're gonna do, and we're gonna do it at each others side. We have baby names picked out, Cartman!" They had a whole life. A whole future... "We can't tell him, we can't... We can't ruin that, he doesn't deserve it."

"Your stupid little perfect life will be a lie, jewboy," Cartman pointed out. "And the boy with the golden rectum is my friend..." Since when did Cartman have remorse that wasn't self serving? "Oh shit, does Eric Cartman care about anyone else but himself?!" Kyle feigned shock, chuckling. Joking to distract himself from the fact that Cartman was right.

"Fuck you, Jew, I care about lots of people."

They stayed silent for a few, long moments. Listening to the sounds of the town from the open window. Kyle felt as if he could fall asleep, if he shut his eyes. He was tired. The heat, the emotional roller coaster... The sex... It was exhausting, and the sun on his face was just whispering for him to sleep. Kyle let his eyes fall shut, enjoying the soft noise of his and Cartman's breathing, the sound of the occasional car and chip of birds. Sure, the position wasn't the most comfortable, but the idea of moving wasn't ideal. It would disturb Cartman, and Kyle also didn't think curling up on Cartman's bed for a nap was appropriate.

"I should go," Kyle mumbled, not wanting to get up. Beside him, Cartman hummed. Unsure of whether it was in agreement or not, Kyle made no effort to move. He should go. Call Stan. Tell him what happened, too. Be honest, come clean, grovel for forgiveness. Ruin Stan's summer. But who knew... It would leave Stan free to find someone else. His own summer fling. Kyle didn't want to think about it.

So he didn't.

Kyle woke to the sound of snoring. How irritating. Kyle grumbled, rolling away from the person he was curled up against. "Shut up," he whined, before blinking his eyes open. The sun was setting orange, and the redhead questioned just how long he'd been asleep. A few hours, it seemed. He stretched out, arching his back and bending his arms behind him only to hit the snoring person.

The snoring stopped.

" _Eugh,_ " the person groaned, and Kyle twisted his body around.

Oh. Right. Well, if Kyle had hoped it was some freaky sex dream, that was crushed. But there was something about seeing Eric Cartman, sleep drunk with his hair glowing in the orange light... Kyle almost felt a pang in his heart, that he immediately squashed down. Now was not the time to find Cartman _attractive_ of all things.

"I have to go," Kyle said, much to quickly and much to loudly, jumping off the bed and grabbing his phone. He said nothing else, darting down the stairs to slip into his flip-flops and head out the door.

The cold air was welcome against Kyle's flushed cheeks. He'd rushed home, shutting the door quietly between him. His parents were home, and Kyle wanted to avoid anyone seeing him in the state he was in. He'd managed to get up the stairs before he was busted. Not by his mother, not by his father, but by Ike.

"Where've you been?" Ike asked, brows knitted together in confusion. Kyle could feel his eyes on him, darting across his skin. His mouth fell. Ike wasn't stupid. Ike was easily the most intelligent person in South Park. Advancing several years, already in high school. Not to mention, Ike had lost his virginity long ago. There was no way Kyle was going to make up a convincing lie to fool him.

"Is... Is Stan back early?" Ike asked, and Kyle could hear in his little brother's voice that Ike knew that wasn't the case. Kyle swallowed, shaking his head. "No."

Ike liked Stan. Loved him. Looked up to him. Stan coached his hockey, giving Ike something other than school to focus on. Stan was someone Kyle knew Ike talked to when talking to his big brother was awkward. Stan was Ike's friend, his family, and Kyle could see the broken look in his eyes. "Ike..."

"It's Cartman, isn't it?" Ike was angry, and rightfully so.

Kyle nodded. "Ike, please... You can't tell Stan, okay? Promise me. I have to do it myself. It has to come from me." Kyle was begging, trying to be as quiet as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was alert Momma Broflovski and explain this to her. Ike agreed, though. "Fine," he huffed. "It's not my secret to tell. But Kyle, what the fuck? Why the fuck would you do that?"

Kyle sighed, running a hand through his thick curls only to get them stuck in knots immediately. "I don't know, Ike. Fuck. I fucked up, okay? But please, just... just don't tell anyone. I know it's gonna make your lessons with Cartman weird. But they're only for a few weeks. We just gotta deal with it."

Ike sighed, shaking his head before turning around to head into his room. Kyle did the same, flicking the lock on the knob before settling into his desk chair. His phone had about a dozen messages from Stan, the last few mistyped and almost nonsensical.

So he'd been drinking, while Kyle was on his elbows and knees getting pounded by fucking Cartman. Great.


	4. Chapter Four

_There are two songs Cartman plays on the piano in this, they are as follows:_

 _Avril 14th - Aphex Twin_

 _Tommib Help Buss - Square Pusher_

 _ **August, 2017**_

It was only meant to happen once.

It didn't happen once.

Kyle didn't mean for it to be recurring, and yet nearly every day after Kenny went home, or died, or simply didn't hang out, Kyle ended up alone with Eric Cartman. Sometimes, it was after his piano lessons with Ike, his little brother sending a knowing glare Kyle's way as he said they were going to 'chill' in his room. Sometimes it was just afternoon, at Cartman's, in the hot summer heat after busting Cartman's balls about eating half a tub of ice cream on his own after refusing to share. Other times, it was at dusk by Stark's Pond, Kenny drowned or went home, or off showing Ike 'something sweet' in the forest.

Kyle didn't want to know, and so long as Kenny kept his hands to himself, Kyle didn't care.

It wasn't always sex, either. Mostly, it was just heated make our sessions or rutting each other like the horny teenagers they were. Kyle had... well, he didn't have dignity, he supposed. If he did, he wouldn't be where he was now.

Which was a late August afternoon, in nothing but a pair of boxers as he laid on top of Cartman's bed spread, chest to the covers. Cartman was fiddling around on his keyboard, a usual occurrence after whatever it was they were doing. Kyle was better off ignoring the guilty feeling in his gut and pretended everything was normal. Eric was seemingly happy to oblige him. They rarely spoke about their escapades, aside from the odd comment from Cartman about his looks, his ass, or some play on word.

Like Sexcapades.

That's what Cartman referred to it as, anyway.

Rolling over on to his back, Kyle stared into his phone, eyes skimming Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix. The series was his summer reread. With the window open, breathing fresh, warm air around the room, Kyle felt a sense of normalcy. The tune Cartman was humming along to as he played was soft.

It was nice, and Kyle ignored the wrench he felt in his stomach thinking so.

"You're really good," he commented, flipping the page on his phone. Cartman's hands didn't stop, and Kyle could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke over the melody. "I'm good at everything, Jew." Kyle's eyes rolled so hard he was surprised they didn't roll out of his skull completely.

"Except dieting," Kyle muttered under his breath.

"Oi, fuck you. I'd rather be beefy than some spindly little twink," Cartman huffed, a brief pause as he ended one song and started up with another. There was a stutter in the notes, what with Kyle whipping some pillow at the back of Cartman's head. Perfect shot, of course.

"I am not a twink!" Kyle was alpha male. Stan had said so on multiple occasions. Dominating conversations, activities, their relationship. Stan might be bigger, stronger, better looking and over all a better person, but Kyle... no, Kyle was the one who wore the pants. He'd be the breadwinner. The family patriarch. When he and Stan would inevitable surrogate or adopt, Kyle already elected to be Father. Stan was Dad.

During their talks of sex, Stan said he'd be a power bottom. Bottom from the top. Et cetera et cetera. Which was rather rude, because Kyle would so top Stan.

"I'm the alpha male of the group, Cartman, you know that. I know that. Everyone knows that," Kyle said, locking his phone and sitting up on the bed. The music stopped, Cartman leaning forward and laughing like Kyle had just told the funniest joke in the world. "Funny joke, dude," Eric said, turning in his chair to look at Kyle's flushed face.

"Your bark may be the loudest in South Park, Ka-hl," Cartman continued. "But it is me who brings down the hearty beast." Cartman brought a hand to his chest, looking both arrogant and bashful at the same time. As if he was humbling himself, while gloating. "Stan and Kenny are beta males. And people like Butters are omegas. Sad and weak little things we all laugh at. And I," Cartman pointed to himself. "Am the alpha male of our little pack. You're the alpha bitch."

Kyle's mouth dropped, eyes narrowing as if he'd been insulted. He had been, really. "I am not a bitch," Kyle hissed, and Cartman grinned. "You are, you're my bitch, therefore the alpha bitch." The brunet shrugged, looking absolutely smug. "Don't look so offended, it's not my fault a beta male isn't good enough for you. That's how we know I'm the alpha. You came for me, Jewboy. The strongest of the men."

He was gonna kill him. "You're so fucking stupid, fatass. And you're not stronger than Stan." Kyle swung his legs over the side of the bed, before standing up completely and stretched his back and shoulders. "You started this, not me," Kyle commented, hearing his shoulders pop as he pulled his arms back and behind his head.

"No, I didn't." Cartman said, staring. Kyle rolled his eyes again.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

It continued for several more rounds, before Kyle huffed and broke the combo. "This is stupid, you're stupid. What we're doing is stupid." Kyle sent Eric a dirty look as he saw the look on Cartman's face. "Shut up, it is. It's not fair." To Stan.

"Then we'll stop, Kyle. I'm not forcing you. Christ."

For some reason, that stung. Kyle felt suddenly as if Cartman was just tossing him aside. Was it that easy for him? Kyle had said himself that this didn't mean anything. Was he lying to himself? Kyle wondered if it was just some stupid attachment to the guy he gave his virginity to, that surely it must have meant something more than disposable sex to Cartman. But Eric wasn't a virgin.

Kyle grumbled to himself. Virginity was just a construct anyway. He was being stupid. It didn't mean anything. He needed to keep telling himself that. What he was doing with Cartman would end entirely the day he saw Stan in person again. Kyle told himself to get over it.

"Fine. It ends now," he snapped, grabbing his clothes off the floor and pulling them on. Cartman didn't seem fazed. Simply shrugged again and turned back to his keyboard.

Before leaving, Kyle needed to get one last dig in. "Find some other alpha bitch," the ginger hissed.

Kyle slammed Eric's bedroom door when all he got in response was a laugh.

"I thought you guys were fine, lately." Kenny said, two days later. They sat inside Tweak Tweak's to take refuge from the dry heat that rolled in that morning.

"You know what he's like, Ken," Kyle huffed, sucking back the remainder of the dark roast coffee from the paper cup. "He says stupid shit and it's either ignore him, or I'll have to break his nose again before it's properly healed."

Kyle had refused to hang out the other day, with Cartman tagging along. Kenny had compared their latest refusal to speak akin to two parents in the middle of a nasty divorce. And that Kenny was the poor little child who was torn between mommy and daddy.

Kyle had kicked him, after Kenny implied that the redhead was mommy.

At least Kenny preferred his company as opposed to Cartman's.

"Well, I don't like it. As much as fat ass is a fuckhead, it's way easier on your child, me by the way, to have you two get along. Just kiss and make up already." Kenny said, popping the lid off his black coffee only to dump even more sugar into it, stirring it around with a straw. "Sorry," Kenny said, clearly not meaning it, once he saw Kyle's sour face. "I swear, Tweak bottom pots mine on purpose."

"He does," Kyle said, watching Kenny chug back the coffee like it was a cheap beer that you drank only to get drunk off of. "He told me when I got it." Tweak wouldn't serve Kenny, and apparently caught on to what Kenny drank when Kyle ordered for the both of them. Don't drink the cup with the angry face scribbled on it, Tweak had said.

Glad to be off the topic of Cartman, Kyle continued. "He hates you."

Kenny whined, looking over at Tweak behind the counter. "No idea why," he moaned out, as if it was something heart breaking.

Kyle spoke louder than he should have, "you fucked Craig!"

Both winced as the sound of a coffee pot broke, followed by Tweak's panic and some younger kid yelling 'welcome to Chilis!' elsewhere in the store. Kenny looked hurt, lip protruded in a pout before defending himself. "They were on a break," he said loud enough for Tweak to hear. "Craig was fair game and we all know it!"

Turning his voice down to a more reasonable volume, Kenny focused on Kyle. "I'll make up with Tweak if you make up with Cartman," he said, and Kyle groaned, kicking back to stand in line to get a refill.

When he came back, Kenny seemed to have dropped the issue for now, eyes focused on who was holding the door open for their friends. Kyle turned in his seat to look, before whirring around to lean across the table and flick Kenny in the forehead. "What is this fucking fascination with my kid brother, dude, fuck. You're a pig." It was like the world stopped, and Kyle was convinced Kenny was only flirting with Ike to piss Kyle off.

And because Kyle had vehemently said no, Kenny's first instinct was yes.

"Not my fault he's growing into a little hottie," Kenny said, eyes tracking Ike until he sensed Kenny's eyes on him. He turned red within a second of Kenny winking at him, before turning away to talk to the Firkle.

Kyle hated his friends, all of them. "He's thirteen," Kyle said for what felt like the millionth time. But Kenny grinned, shaking a finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah, his birthday is at the end of the month. He'll be fourteen, and a sophomore."

"It doesn't matter if he skipped a few grades, Ken, he's off limits. Forever. I don't care if he's eighty years old, you keep your hands off him." His brother was off limits for his friends. Hell, Kyle would make sure no one touched Ike, if he could help it. Especially after that whole affair with his teacher in kindergarten.

"Stop it!" Kyle yelled, kicking Kenny under the table as he waved goodbye to Ike, eyes following his brothers behind. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, I swear to God. Literally everyone else in the town if fair game, Ken." Knowing Kenny, though, he'd gone through most everyone.

"God, he's a cutie," Kenny sighed.

"Can we talk about something else, please," Kyle begged.

Kenny obliged, face lighting up. "I've got two thousand subscribers, now, dude. I'm getting that sweet sweet ad money, now." Kenny pulled out his phone, opening up the YouTube app and waving it in front of Kyle's face for him to see. "It's like, hardly anything, but it's getting there, man. I just need one video to go viral. If only I wouldn't get flagged for graphic content if we recorded me dying."

Kenny had been going on about it being a great idea. Record all the ways he could die, give people some of that violence they all craved. Guidelines prevented it. So it was the next best thing, his 'hardcore parkour' channel. Near death was the best, or Kenny'd have Butters cut it off before anything violent was shown.

"You think it'll take off?" Kyle asked, curious. He had his favourite YouTube, as did most people, and saw how much they could be bringing in. But he'd seen others lose it all. Drop dramatically once their time was done. Others never made it far. Kyle wanted Kenny to be realistic, not build his future based on some fantasy...

Kenny wasn't phased, though. "Course it will," the blonde boy said. "I'm cute, I'm white, I do stupid shit. I've already got all these girls sending me comments about how hot I am. I'll be Alex from Target, only infinitely better."

Well, Kyle supposed Kenny had a point. People sure did like making stupid people famous.


	5. Chapter Five

_Playlist: Lights On - The Pierces_

 _ **August, 2014**_

Kyle had continued his silent treatment with Cartman for four days, before he was forced to break it.

All thanks to his mother.

By some feat of God, the last few years, Cartman had wormed his way into Sheila Broflovski's good books. Teaching her youngest how to read music and play piano for free. Offering to do errands, or baby sit Ike before Sheila had decided that after his Bat Mitzvah last year, he could watch himself. Even siding with Sheila when the boys were all around to listen to Kyle and her butt heads. Kyle knew it was purely to piss him off, not that Eric fucking Cartman had any respect for his mother what so ever. But it worked, well enough for his mother to invite Eric to stay for dinner after Ike's weekly lesson.

He tried. He really tried to not say anything, stabbing angrily at his vegetables and begging God or Satan or anything in the universe to just open up the ground and swallow him so he didn't have to listen to Eric Cartman any longer.

"You're so full of shit," Kyle hissed, after growing sick of Cartman gushing about how he looooved what Sheila had done with the living room. How amazing her cooking was. How impressive it was that Sheila had moved that piano into the living room on her own. His mother was just glowing with happiness. And it was fake, it was all lies, and Eric Cartman was a nightmare under the façade.

"Kyle, apologize, right now," his mother spat, and Kyle felt his eyes roll back in his head in involuntary protest. "Well he is," Kyle cried, only to have his mother reach across and smack him on the hand. "Now, Kyle!" Kyle's eyes shot across the table, where Cartman was seated beside Ike. The fork in his mouth didn't hide the grin on his face. Like a cat who'd learned to operate a tin opener. Kyle opened his mouth, wanting to just scream in frustration at him until his voice was gone.

Instead, Kyle took a deep breath and plastered a painful smile on his face. "I'm sorry," he gritted out. The table was silent for several moments, except for the clattering of stainless against the china as they ate. It was worse. Kyle pushed his chair back and his cutlery on his plate. "Excuse me," he said, tucking his chair back in and made way to his bedroom. Sheila called out, voice irritable. "You're to do the dishes, young man." Kyle ignored her, hand tightening on the banister as he heard Cartman speak. "It's alright, Mrs. Broflovski, I'll do it. It's the least I could do after you extended an invitation to dinner to me."

Kyle missed Stan. So fucking much. Slamming the bedroom door to make his frustration known, Kyle threw himself on his bed and snatched his phone off the end table to send Stan a long rant about how insufferable the fat fuck was.  
'I hate him so fucking much.' Kyle sent, finishing it off. Three little dots appeared in the corner, and Kyle felt his whole body relax. At least he had Stan, right now, to keep him sane.

'I know, babe, he's a fuckhead.' A few seconds later, Stan continued.  
'Can't let it get to you, tho'

Kyle huffed, typing out his reply.  
'I know it's so fucking hard though. Kenny doesn't help, either... keeps saying to kiss and make up then he turns around and flirts with Ike. they're both out to get me, dude.'

'Now you're just paranoid. XD :D 3

'Come home.'  
'Please. I miss you so fuckin much, dude.'

Kyle didn't get the chance to see Stan's reply, what with his door opening immediately after a knock. "You sure turn into a cow when you're not getting laid, Kyle."

"Get out of my room, Cartman. Go home. We don't want you here." Kyle pulled a pillow over his head, ignoring the second ding on his phone beside him. He felt Cartman's presence come closer to him. "Quite the contrary, your mom even asked if I wanted to stay the night so we can get over our little tiff. Isn't she just the nicest woman, Kyle? And you treat her so badly," Cartman purred, before staying silent for a moment. He let out a little tsk and aww. Kyle pulled the pillow off, to see Cartman with Kyle's phone in hand.

"So sweet," Cartman said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stan says he looooooooveees you, and it's only two more weeks! Then you'll be together again and he promises he's not gonna leave you again." His voice was stupidly sweet, with that mocking baby tone. Kyle reached up to snatch his phone away, but Cartman pulled back. "This is disgusting," the larger boy spoke, voice back to normal. "You don't deserve this faggy kid." Kyle knew that! Stan was perfect, Kyle knew that more than anyone and he sure as shit didn't need to be reminded.

"I know," Kyle hissed, watching as Cartman stared at his phone screen. "Give me my phone back!" But Cartman was scrolling through the messages between him and Stan. It was private. Not that there was anything incriminating, really. Just about how they missed each other, how much Kyle hated Cartman, or rants about Kenny endangering himself for the views. Other small talk, about Craig and Tweak, how Kyle had gone out shopping with Bebe and Wendy last week, things like that...

Until Cartman's eyes lit up and his mouth formed a very large 'O'. "Naughty Kyle!" Kyle jumped what felt like several feet from his bed, snatching up his phone and hitting the lock button immediately. "I fucking hate you, get out." Cartman held up his hands in surrender, face devilish. "What? Nothing I haven't seen before. Technically, I've seen worse than your nudes." He paused for a moment, thinking. "You never send me nudes," he said, as if it was unfair of Kyle to withhold that from him.

Kyle was flabbergasted. "Why would I send you nudes?" Why would he even ask that?!

The brunet shrugged. "Why not? You're a little tart." Kyle pulled his head back, eyebrows scrunching together as he stared at Cartman. "I am not a tart!"  
Eric stared at him.  
Kyle didn't have a retort. He was a tart.

"I'm sleeping over," Eric stated. "Mom's dropping off a change of clothes and some jammies." Kyle didn't even have a choice, apparently.

"Lovely," he groaned.

-

It took a few hours to fall back into old habits. They played a few video games, watched a movie on Kyle's computer. They continued bickering, a few punches and kicks with no real strength in them, lead to Kyle sitting in Cartman's lap, legs wrapped around the larger one's waist. His phone and texts to Stan, long forgotten as Cartman's hands grabbed at Kyle's ass, Kyle nipping and sucking at the others lower lip. Kyle clutched at the hem of Cartman's shirt, pulling away only for a second to pull it up and over his head. He let it drop somewhere on the bed. Kyle had iTunes pumping out music on his computer, helping to mask any sounds either of them made. It wasn't often he and Cartman fooled around with anyone in the house.

The last thing Kyle wanted was his mother investigating any suspicious noises. Cartman facing her wrath? Kyle couldn't give two shits about. But his own sense of self preservation was strong.

He had no clue what the fuck he was doing, what drove him to shove his hands down the front of Cartman's pants as the other boy slid a hand up his bare back and into his hair. But Kyle knew he didn't want to die like this at the hands of Sheila Broflovski.

"Help me," Kyle huffed as he pulled away, unable to push Cartman's pants down while Kyle sat on top of him. "C'mon, lift your fat ass up." "I can't, you're sitting on me, dumb ass," Cartman grunted, deciding the easiest way to get the job done was simple push Kyle off him and onto his back. Kyle landed with a small oof on the bed, blinking up at Cartman as the brunet shimmied out of his pants before hooking his fingers into Kyle's own boxers and yanking them down past his ass.

"Could at least do the whole job, you lazy fuck," Kyle said as he rolled his eyes, kicking them off the rest of the way. "Ow!" Kyle kicked into Cartman's thigh at the pinch, glaring up at the other boy before reaching up to pull Cartman on top of him. Eric laughed into the kiss, back arching slightly as Kyle's hand wrapped around his cock.

"Told you you were the alpha bitch," Cartman commented, yelping when he felt Kyle's teeth break the skin on his lower lip.

-

Sometime later, Kyle yanked on his discarded boxers and a tee shirt he grabbed out of the laundry basket, while Cartman fished in the backpack of clothes his mother brought him earlier in the evening. Kyle had half a mind to kick Cartman to the floor, but his energy was limited and the afterglow of a good go at it was too pleasant to ruin. He checked his phone, when Cartman went to go brush his teeth. The familiar feeling of guilt came, at the texts from Stan.  
'Goodnight. Love you. Can't wait to be home. Have good dreams. 3'  
Kyle sent back a similar one in response, before yanking the charge cable out of Cartman's phone and plugging his own in. He heard Cartman finishing up in the bathroom, and Kyle passed him in the hall to brush his own teeth. On his way back, Kyle poked his head into Ike's room, the only light coming from Ike's computer. Seeing Kyle, Ike pulled off the head phones he was wearing and stopped typing.

"Night, Ike," Kyle said, and Ike gave a tight smile and nod in return. "Night, Kyle."

Back in his room, Cartman had already settled into bed, and Kyle climbed in after him. The single bed was hardly big enough for the both of them, but Kyle pushed Cartman against the wall. "Move, fat ass." Cartman grunted, but did as Kyle wanted anyway.

Good.

-

"F'koff, Cartman," Kyle grumbled, trying to roll away from the warm body trying to squeeze in the bed. "Shh," he got in response, from a voice that was decidedly not Eric Cartman. "Kinny, g'way," that was Cartman.

Great.

"I wanna be in the middle, move," Kenny said, sliding under the covers to curl up between them. Kyle was half off the bed, and judging by the orange glow of a sunset, it was way to early for an argument. So Kyle gave in, huffing as he rolled onto his other side and felt Eric do the same. How the hell the three of them fit on a single bed, Kyle didn't know nor care. He felt Kenny grab around for Kyle's arm, pulling it over Kenny's shoulder.

Kyle sighed, trying his best not to snap as Kenny kept wiggling around to get comfortable. What was it with this kid and insisting on climbing into Kyle's bed at ungodly hours in the morning.

Whatever. Kyle was going back to sleep, and the other two seemingly did the same.

"Shut up," Kyle snapped, smacking at Kenny's back. Both he and Cartman were chattering about stupid shit, and Kyle just wanted to sleep in. A glance at his clock on the wall said it was just after nine. Too early for summer vacation.

But of course, Kenny and Eric needed to discuss the most mundane crap in his bed. "When the fuck did my bed become the social hot spot, fuck. Next time bring Butters, why don't you?" Kyle rubbed at his face, trying to wipe the sleep and irritation away.

Kenny sat up, squished between Kyle and Cartman, and ran his hands through the red and brown hair of the two of them, grinning happily. "I'm just glad mom and dad made up," Kenny said. "I wanted to join in on the reunion. But I'll bring Butters next time, if you want, he'd love this." Kenny knew Kyle was being sarcastic, but Kyle just knew in the near future he'd wake up to being sandwiched between two blondes.

"Stop touching me," Cartman batted at Kenny's hand, before sitting up himself. Kyle huffed, doing the same when the door pushed open, Ike standing with a mug. "Mom says," Ike stared at the three of them, mouth open in mid sentence. "Uh. Mom said to wake you up for breakfast."

"Ike, come join us, first." Kenny said, patting the bed.

"Uh," Ike blinked, backing out of doorway and shaking his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't... I don't wanna be a part of whatever this shit is." He waved the mug around, gesturing at the three of them. He turned on the hard wood, the movement made graceful thanks to Ike's socks. Kyle heard him rush down the stairs, followed by a thud, a curse, and his mother yelling at Ike to watch his mouth.

"I'm getting something to eat," Cartman said, crawling past the other two and stretching his back.

Kyle pushed himself off the bed, and past Cartman. Kenny followed suit, soon after. "Well, we'd all better go before you inhale everything in your fucking path." Kyle grabbed his phone off charge, leading the way down the stairs, stepping by Ike as he mopped up spilled tea from the bottom of the stairs. "I slipped," Ike explained, no one having asked. "Rushing away from you weirdos."

Kenny ruffled his hair as they all passed, Cartman doing the same immediately after, despite Ike's protesting.


	6. Chapter Six

_**Late August, 2017**_

The morning Stan was due home was one filled with an overwhelming sense of... Kyle didn't know. He didn't have words for it, the mixture of excitement, dread, longing, guilt, a million and a half other things. He'd kicked Kenny and Butters out in the early morning, only to spend it wandering the house aimlessly. His parents were out, dad at work, mom doing various chores. Only Ike was home, and Kyle knew he was driving his little brother insane by popping into his room once every half an hour to try to take his mind off things.

Ike had some weird project going on, and Kyle kept finding him in various states of it every time he checked in. Started out with Ike dragging old sheets into his room, lining the floor, his bed, and various pieces of furniture with them. Kyle asked no questions, despite the first thought being that Ike was about to dismember a body or something. The next time, Kyle had seen pots of paint opened, and a pilfered pack of kitchen sponges. The third time Kyle came in, Ike was in a set of handmedowns from Kyle, specks of paint in his black hair and on his shoulders. Kyle saw nothing painted, no canvas or furniture.

So Kyle finally asked on his fourth visit, seeing Ike standing up on his tip-toes on his dresser.

"What are you doing?"

Ike just stared at Kyle as if it was the stupidest question. "Look up, you moron," Ike said, clearly irritated at having been interrupted for the forth time in two hours. Kyle did, seeing bright clouds of colour sponged onto the ceiling. "Mom's gonna fucking kill you, dude," Kyle said, looking back as Ike reached to press the blue paint soaked sponge onto the ceiling. "It's artistic," Ike countered. "And scientific." Ike would likely get away with those excuses, as he tended to get away with nearly everything. Always spinning it into some form of 'intellectually expressing myself' that their mother ate up. The prodigal son could do no wrong, so long as he insisted what he did was in the name of learning. And so long as he didn't speak back. It used to drive Kyle nuts, a few years back. Ike got away with things Kyle never would have been able to. Ike defended himself by saying he watched Kyle grow up, and learned exactly what not to do or say. And that nothing he could do could compare to the shit Kyle and his friends pulled when they were kids.

The kid was too smart for his own good.

"I'm going for the Orion Nebula," Ike continued, pursing his lips as he stared up at his design. "Not turning out right, though. Think I'll just do random gas clouds then paint on some constellations. I'm debating using Christmas lights, but I'd have to hide the wires in the ceiling and I don't think I'll be able to justify drilling holes in the ceiling from the attic for it. I'll probably just do glow in the dark paint..." Ike spoke as if Kyle wasn't really there, pondering out loud as opposed to having a conversation. He mumbled to himself, something Kyle didn't catch before speaking properly. "When's Stan home?" Ike asked, stepping up onto a stack of books. Kyle stepped closer, ready to catch his idiot brother should he fall.

"Couple hours," Kyle replied, the anxiety bubbling up again at the thought of Stan.

"You gonna tell him?"

"No, and you'd do good to not say anything either." Kyle's voice sounded snippy, and not bothering to veil the subtle threat.

"I won't, chill. You're wandering around the place looking miserable. I'm not gonna tell your secret, but I think you should. It's not fair, Kyle." Kyle felt his heart stop for a second as Ike jumped off the stack of books so he could reach a spot further than his arms could reach. His brother didn't fall, but he landed precariously on the tips of his toes. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps the couple years of dance classes he was forced into as a kid, but Ike balanced himself out before he continued speaking. "Why's Kenny keep flirting with me?" The Canadian boy asked, switching topics to avoid that argument, wiping hair from his face but leaving a streak of paint behind. "I don't even think I like boys."

"To bug me, mostly," Kyle shrugged. "He also flirts with everyone. But be careful, because Butters doesn't like boys either yet somehow Kenny convinced him to sleep with him." Ike made a face, grossed out by the thought of it. Still too young to think the idea of sex appealing, apparently. "If it bugs you, I'll tell him and he'll cut it out." Kyle paused for a moment. "Think?" He asked, and Ike nodded before jumping from the books to the bed, and bounced off to land on his feet on the floor. "Yeah, think. I don't wanna make any promises. You said you liked girls until Stan," Ike pointed out, grabbing a clean sponge and the pot of pink paint.

"I do like girls. I just love Stan." Ike looked up, and Kyle felt instantly more comfortable with this arrangement, Ike being at his proper height and not looking down at Kyle both literally and figuratively. But the look on his brother's face asked a question. _Why Cartman, then?_

That was a whole can of worms Kyle had no intentions of opening ever again.

They didn't speak for several moments, Ike mulling something over in his head. "Maybe I don't care, maybe I just like older blondes..."

"Stan!"

Kyle had all but launched himself into Stan's arms upon hearing the Marsh family car pull up into the drive way. Any negative feelings he had during the build up to Stan's return left the moment Kyle had seen him. All Kyle could think was how much he'd missed Stan, how much more _complete_ Kyle felt, instantly upon him simply being home. It was like the second half of his soul had gone, leaving him empty and miserable and just plain stupid. Who was Eric Cartman? Kyle didn't care, nor did he wish to try to.

"I missed you do much," Stan grinned, squeezing Kyle to the point where Kyle felt like he couldn't breathe. And Kyle didn't give a shit, clinging back just as tightly. "Don't ever leave me alone with these lunatics again, please," Kyle begged, locking his arms together around Stan's neck before yanking the taller boy down for a kiss. In the background, Kyle heard Randy holler at the to get a room. Both he and Stan ignored it, Stan smirking against Kyle's lips. "I won't. Kenny said you've been a little bitch all summer. Not fair to them." Kyle rolled his eyes, stepping back to get a proper look at his boyfriend. FaceTime and photos only did so much, and they didn't do justice. Stan had grown a beard over the summer, and Kyle found himself liking it a lot more in person. "You look older," Kyle commended on it, moving a hand to Stan's jaw to touch it. "I like it."

Stan looked sheepish about it, though, touching the other side. "Really? Shelly says I look like an idiot."

"Because your sister is _such_ a good judge, right?" Kyle rolled his eyes, and he couldn't care less about Shelly's stupid opinion. "You like it, I like it, and that's honestly the only two people who actually matter." One could say Kyle's opinion didn't, but considering he was the one who had to kiss Stan (not that it was a chore) he granted himself some importance on the matter. It seemed to cheer Stan up, anyway. "Lets drag a tent to Stark's Pond and camp out tonight," Stan suggested. He'd been cooped up in an RV for months, and could use the space. And Kyle could use the time alone with him. "I'd have to sneak out, mom's fine with the whole town sleeping in my bed, just not you." Their sleepovers, at least the ones with just the two of them, ended when they announced their relationship. Queer couple or not, Sheila wasn't going to let them sleep alone together if she could help it.

"So... that's a yes?" Stan asked, and Kyle nodded, smirking up at him and giving him a wink. "It's a yes."

The four of them were back together, seated in lawn chairs in Stan's backyard, the parents congregated by sexes either around a patio table, or the barbecue. Kyle had taken up residence in Stan's lap, their hands locked together as they had been since Stan's return home. Both Stan and Kenny had been allowed a beer, or two in Stan's case, whereas Cartman had chosen to stick to pop and Kyle would be burned at the stake should he ever be underage and drinking with his mother in sight. Randy had insisted on firing up the grill on their first night back. Naturally, he had ignored Stan's request for him to have picked up something vegan, which left Stan with Bud-Light and a veggie tray.

"You look like a hipster douchebag," Cartman commented, staring down Stan. Kyle sent him a look of loathing, ready to jump to the defence. But Stan could handle himself, rolling his eyes. "Better than being a straight up douchebag you, Cartman. At least I have some semblance of style." With his beard, the blue and black plaid shirt, Stan did look a little on the hipster side. It suited him, though. Kyle squeezed the hand that was in his, eyes still on Cartman. The brunet stared back, and Kyle felt hate rising up inside of him. The look in his eyes was almost threatening, and Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that out of spite, Eric would say something. After all, what did he have to lose? It would ruin everything for Kyle, and Cartman could just walk gleefully away, happy as a lark to have once again, ruined Kyle's life.

he didn't even know he was squeezing Stan's hand so tightly until Stan had tried to get out of the grip. "Dude, relax," he told Kyle, using his now free hand to rub small circles on the redheads back. "Cartman's just jealous," Stan smirked.

"Why would I be jealous of a hipster with a Jew in his lap?" Cartman asked, clearly trying out hide a salty tone under sarcasm. "Seems more like punishment to me, I feel sorry for you, Stan, I really do."

"Fuck you, fat ass," Kyle snapped, moving slightly only to have Stan's arms wrap around his waist to keep him put."Keep talking if you want to look like Owen Wilson, I'll break your nose again." Kyle tried to worm his way out of Stan's lap, but Stan held strong. So he simply huffed, relaxing against Stan's chest, flipping Kenny off as he erupted in giggles before explaining to Stan. "They've been like this all summer." Kyle wanted to point out that he and Cartman had been this way all their lives, but Stan lifted a hand up to point that out himself. His other arm squeezed tighter around Kyle's waist to keep him in place.

"They've been like this since they were kids."


	7. Chapter Seven

_Playlist: Lone Digger - Caravan Palace_

 _Headslide First into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet - Fall Out Boy_

 _Don't Hug Me I'm Scared 2 - Time_

 _ **Labour Day Weekend, 2017**_

Every Labour Day Weekend, Token's parents went away on holiday. Up until Token was about sixteen, they'd taken him with them. Until this year. From what Kyle understood, talking to him over the loud music blaring through the speakers through the smart-home, Token had convinced them that he was well old enough to spend a weekend on his own. His friends would keep him company. And there would be absolutely no parties.

Obviously, Token had lied through his brilliant white teeth to them, considering everyone in their year and a couple above and below them were packed into Token's house, on the final Saturday before school started. Kyle had debated coming or not, but everyone he knew was going to be there. Not to mention, Stan seemed eager to see everyone. Kyle had wanted to keep him away from as many addictive substances as he possibly could, knowing his boyfriends penchant for things like that. But it was the end of the summer, the final hurrah, and it was rather nice to have a couple of drinks and hang out with some of his friends he hadn't seen much.

"Thanks for inviting us, man," Kyle yelled over the music, taking the blue cup of... whatever... Stan passed over as he sidled up beside him. Token held his cup up in response, before bidding adieu as the song changed into some Daft Punk mashed with DJ Quad City abomination. Kyle and Stan followed Token as he pushed through the crowd to see Craig sniggering with Token's iPhone in hand while Clyde pushed people out of the way to drop to the hardwood. "Anyone ever tell Clyde he _can't_ break dance?" Stan whisper-yelled into Kyle's ear. Kyle laughed, shaking his head before yelling back. "Don't think so! But Token seems he's about too." Turning, Kyle held his cup away so as not to spill, pressing a kiss to Stan's lips. Kyle had meant it to be chaste, a simply, happy little display of love. But Stan seemed to have other ideas, snaking the hand holding his beer around Kyle's waist to deepen the kiss. Kyle didn't mind in the slightest, still on the glow of happiness at having Stan back with him after weeks of separation. But as Kyle was about to shut his eyes and enjoy himself, he caught something in his line of view. Not breaking the kiss, Kyle's eyes narrowed in focus.

He knew Cartman was here, they'd all come together. They'd all mostly separated when they got through the door, and Kyle knew now where Cartman had gone. He stood off to the side, hand on the wall while Heidi Turner leaned against it, two hands around her drink as she laughed at something Cartman said. As if he sensed eyes on him, he looked over and saw Kyle watching. The jealousy flared up inside him, watching as Cartman used his free hand to brush back some of Heidi's hair. Kyle couldn't help the little growl in his throat, biting at Stan's lower lip harder than he would really have meant too. Stan pulled back with a little yelp, his lip caught between Kyle's teeth for a short second before he had sense to relax and let his lip go. Kyle's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and mild anger and tried to focus on Stan. "Sorry," Kyle mumbled, not sure if Stan could hear him or not anyway. He must have, or at least guessed at what Kyle was saying because Stan fluffed up his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm gonna go find Wendy!" Stan called, gesturing at himself before waving at the people crowding the open concept floor plan.

Kyle gave him a thumbs up, bringing the solo cup to his mouth and chugging back most of the contents. He was in a good mood, when he first came. Now there was twisting in his gut that he'd like to forget about. It shouldn't bother him, Kyle knew that. But it did. He needed a distraction and to find someone else to talk to. The music was too loud inside, but at least Token managed to take control of it, some electo-swing thing playing through the speakers. Kyle stood awkwardly alone, watching as Bebe stood up on the coffee table before dragging Clyde up with her. They did some sort of two step, and Kyle wondered how long it would take for one or both of them to fall off. He watched, now invested in their little show. Especially when Clyde had picked Bebe up around the torso and began tossing her around him. He was going to throw her, or drop her, or fall off with her. Kyle wanted to watch and wait for the inevitable, but the heat of people inside and the music was quickly starting to irritate him. Not that it was bad. Just... too much going on. Kyle checked his phone, he noted he'd only really been here for half an hour. Kyle tossed back the remainder of his drink, face contorting at the taste of whatever alcohols and pop Stan mixed together in the kitchen. He knew Stan was a beer person, but his boyfriend couldn't mix cocktails to save his fucking life apparently.

He needed a new, better tasting drink, and to get somewhere a tad bit quieter. So Kyle made his way to the kitchen. It was mostly empty, people coming in and out to grab something from the double door fridge or ice from the dispenser. The only person who looked like they were hanging out in here was some kid Kyle'd never seen before. "Don't think you should be smoking inside, man," Kyle commented, looking at the guy. He reminded Kyle of Craig, in height and body type. Somehow skinnier than him, though. He looked almost skeletal, sunken eyes with bags and sharp cheek bones. He wasn't dressed for a party, either. He looked more like he was dressed for grave robbing or something. Camouflage pants, olive shirt and ratty black vest and fingerless gloves. He had mighty bushy brows though. The smoking kind of went with the look, Kyle supposed. But what was weird was his haughty stature and holding a delicate crystal wine glass by the stem. He stared Kyle down as he stubbed the thin smoke out in the sink, placing the glass down on the marble counter top. He grabbed another from the cupboard, and pulled the cork from the wine bottle and poured another before handing it out to Kyle.

Kyle took it, confused. He debated drinking it, but really, really didn't want to. This was how people got drugged and raped. By strange people at parties. "Eez French," the guy nodded his chin to the glass, picking up his own and swirling it. "A good year, about five 'undred euros a bottle." Great, the guy raided the Black's wine cabinet. "Drink." He commanded, and Kyle felt like it wasn't a good idea not to. So he took a small sip of the red wine, surprised to find it wasn't like the other red's he had in his short life. He'd never much liked wine, especially a red one. They tended to be bitter, dried his mouth out and caused his jaw to clench. This was smooth, thicker than he thought it would be. It was bitter, still, but Kyle could almost taste the fruits it was fermented from. The other guy watched him closely, gauging his reaction. "Eez good, no? Like liquid velveet." Sure. Kyle nodded to whatever he was saying, assuming this guy knew more about wine than Kyle ever did. "Who are you?" Kyle asked, swallowing a second mouthful.

"Christophe," Christophe said. "My muzzer and I just moved 'ere from Colmar. From une shite town to anuzzer." Kyle wanted to point out that he'd give his life to live anywhere but here, but he'd never been to Colmar. Maybe it was shittier than he imagined some town in France to be. But seriously, anywhere had to be better than here. "And with zat fuckin' Brit." Kyle quirked his eyebrow in confusion, and Christophe explained. "She married zis Engleesh idiot and 'is son, and now I live in a shite town with a shite family. Zere eez no God. But you're pretty to look at. Small miracles, no?"

"Oka-ay." Kyle said, and tilted his head back to drink the wine in the glass as quickly as possible. "I gotta go..." Kyle said, but leaned forward to snatch the bottle of wine off the counter beside Christophe. He came in for a refill, and this was the best thing he'd tasted in a while and be damned if he was leaving this weird scenario empty handed. He gave Christophe a friendly pat on the shoulder, and noticed the shovel strapped to his back. Kyle backed away, staring at the French guy before turning around with every intention of finding Stan.

But his path was blocked. He skidded to a halt, socked feet slipping a little on the kitchen's tile. The wine sloshed in the bottle, and Kyle cursed. Trapped between a fat ass and freaky Francophone. "Cartman," Kyle said, backing up a little to let him past. Now he really just wanted to get out of here. Cartman looked down at him. "Jew," he replied, making his way to the fridge. Kyle didn't stop to bite the bait, darting into the living room. It didn't take long to find Stan, spotting him through the patio door outside chatting with Wendy.

Going outside, Kyle noticed as he came up beside Stan that Wendy's arm was locked with that of an unfamiliar blonde. Hearing him speak, it clicked into place. "Hey, Wendy," Kyle greeted, refilling his glass now that he'd stopped moving. He handed the bottle over to Stan, who simply took a swig from it like some barbarian. "I'm Kyle, you must be the English idiot's son." Stan looked at him, confused, and Kyle gave him a look that he'd explain in a minute. The guy Wendy was with nodded with a small chuckle.

"I take it you met my new step brother? Charming, isn't he? He's been an absolute twat since our parents got married. Now he hates me. Gregory," the blonde explained. He shook Kyle's hand, and Kyle wondered how much of Wendy's attraction to him came from that accent he had. "Did he send you off with that?" Gregory asked, looking at the wine bottle Kyle took back from Stan. He didn't need to be double fisting a beer and a bottle of wine. "More I took it from him," Kyle said, sipping at his glass. "Good taste. Bit odd. Complained a little, told me I was pretty. Why does he have a shovel?"

"It's a long story," Gregory laughed.

The party was largely uneventful as the hours dragged on. By the time Kyle had finished his pilfered bottle of wine, he was fairly drunk and feeling infinitely better than when they'd first arrived. They danced around, ate pizza. Kyle didn't give a damn about keeping kosher. Like hell he'd be eating plain cheese or veggie pizza after ingesting most of a bottle of a wine and whatever concoction Stan made him earlier in the night. All in all, Kyle was thoroughly enjoying himself. The loud music no longer bothered him, neither did the amount of people. By one am, everyone was sufficiently drunk and happy.

The only bummer? Stan had passed out on the sofa, leaving Kyle to fend for himself. Well, he had Kenny for part of the night. He made a good dance partner, dragging Butters between them and making the tiny blonde incredibly uncomfortable in the process. But Kenny had disappeared up the stairs, dragging both Tweek and Craig behind him. Kyle wished him the best of luck, fairly certain that wasn't going to end up as well as he thought. Either way, it left Kyle mostly on his own. The house was still packed full of people, of course. But his boyfriend and best friend were now out of commission. Kyle looked around for anyone to talk to, but Bebe and Clyde had locked themselves in Token's bedroom. Gregory and Christophe were in a corner, looking like they were arguing but Kyle thought it was a bit odd for them to be as close as they were. Maybe personal space was less of a thing overseas...

In his quest for company, Kyle bumped into the one person he hadn't thought of for the last few hours. The contents of his wine glass- no longer wine, but Coke and some other liquor- splashed down the front of Cartman's shirt. "Oh, shit," Kyle grumbled, trying to focus on the dark spot to wipe it away with his bare hands. It didn't do anything. Fucking hands. Useless things. "Sor-ree."

"How drunk are you?" Cartman asked, holding Kyle steady by the shoulders. Kyle shrugged. "Twenty Seventeen," he said simply.

"That's the year, dumbass."

Kyle held up a finger accusingly at him. "How drunk are YOU?" Eric looked down at him, looking unhappy about something. Couldn't be about Kyle, because Kyle was adorable. "I'm not," Eric said, and Kyle figured he was lying. He'd been here all night. Kyle had seen him drinking! "Liiiiiaaaar." Kyle purred, and Eric just looked more pissy. "I don't drink. It makes people stupid. Like you." Kyle decided to kick him, but missed his calf and stumbled forward. "M'not stupid, you're stupid." He leaned against Cartman's chest for a moment to steady himself, poking at the wet, dark splotch. "You've been drinking. See," he gestured at the mark. He heard Cartman swear to no one in particular. "That's from you, holy shit."

Liar.

Kyle stood up properly, pushing his chest out and tried to appear taller and more sober than he actually was. Cartman just looked pissed off. "Are you mad at me?" Kyle asked. "You can't be mad at _me._ I'm pretty. The French guy said so, he has a shovel." Eric stared at him. Kyle thought he made a perfectly valid argument here. Cartman didn't respond immediately, so Kyle assumed he won that argument. Easy enough, but no where near as fun as he'd have liked it. Holding his hands up, he made two fists. The wine glass kinda made one look stupid, but it was cool. "Fight me," Kyle said, waving his arms around.

"I'm not fighting you," Eric replied, blinking. He kept his eyes on Kyle, and it kinda made Kyle uncomfortable. Like Eric was seeing right through him. Kyle put his fists down, and drank the last bit of the drink. He could feel himself swaying on his feet. Or maybe it was Eric, since it looked like he was the one moving. Suddenly, Kyle didn't feel well. Watching Eric move like that churned his stomach, and Kyle dropped the crystal glass to the ground and held his hand to his mouth to keep himself from throwing up. Cartman grumbled about the shattered glass on the floor. "Don't mo-" Cartman began to say, as Kyle took a stumble backwards.

"Ow," Kyle said into his palm, but didn't do anything about it. He must've stepped on a piece or something. Maybe he should look. Kyle lifted a leg, trying to grab onto it with his hands but he couldn't keep his balance. Eric must've figured, because he reached out to steady him by the shoulders again. They both stared down at his foot, a large shard of the broken crystal in his foot. Straight through the white sock. It wasn't white anymore though, quickly growing red from blood. "Huh," Kyle poked at it, tempted to pull it out. He should or he'd never walk again. Who could walk with a chunk of glass in their foot? Even he wasn't that great. "You're an idiot," Cartman said, reaching down to yank it from his foot. Seconds later, he scooped Kyle up and tossed him over his shoulder. The motion of it made Kyle gag, and he felt Eric pinch the back of his thigh. "If you throw up on me, I'm throwing you in the pool," he threatened.

Kyle saluted him, but maybe he couldn't see it. Kyle was getting a decent view of Eric's ass though. He wasn't sure where he was being taken, but Kyle occupied himself on the short trip by banging out a song on his cheeks like they were a set of bongos. He thought he heard Cartman tell him to cut it out, but over the music Kyle didn't really listen. He stopped when he caught on to the song though, singing along with Patricia Stump when his voice got deep, deeping his own to go along with it.

 _"Click back and forth like old headlights, sniffing model glue again."_

Kyle dissolved into giggles at the sound of his own voice going as deep as it did. He could feel Eric sigh, probably still miserable that Kyle was having a good time or something. No one was stopping Eric from drinking like the rest of them. "Stop singing, there's no time for singing," he heard Eric say as they started to ascend the stairs.

Well then.

Rude.

"There's always time for a song!" Kyle argued, before singing again out of spite.

 _"It's time to go on a journey, a journey through time! A time that's changing all the time! It's time to go to time!"_

"Stop saying time!" Eric yelled at him, and Kyle smacked him on the ass again for raising his voice. "Don't be stupid!" He sung out, before continuing his song.

 _"Time is old, like a Victorian times! With cobbles and plague and speaking in rhymes. With cobbles and chimneys, a simpler time!_ Hi Kenny!" Kyle waved, seeing him slip out of one of the guest rooms, looking incredibly pleased with himself. He held a hand out for Kenny to give a high five, congratulating him on his obvious success at the Tweex x Craig threesome.

"What happened to you," Kenny asked them, and Kyle was about to explain but Eric interrupted him.

"He stepped on glass because he's drunk."

Kyle ignored them, starting his singing again. " _But look, a computer! Everything's cool, it's the future! Time is now, the future anew. And look at all the wonderful things you can do!"_

"Shut up, Kyle, fuck!" Eric cried, pushing past Kenny into one of the other bedrooms on the second floor of Token's house. He slammed the door shut behind them, and unceremoniously tossed Kyle onto the bed. "You're so fucking annoying," he said, pulling off Kyle's sock. Kyle figured it hurt, but he really didn't know. There were benefits to being drunk, and this was one of them. Kyle watched lazily as Eric went into the attached bathroom, and he heard the faucet turn on.

He came back out shortly after, a wet and dry cloth in his hands. As Eric wiped at his foot, washing the blood around, Kyle wiggled on the bed in a bit of a dance.

 _"If we run out of time, then where does it go? Is time even real? Does anyone know?! Maybe time is just a construct of human perception, an illusion created by-"_ Kyle was cut off by Eric screaming at the top of his lungs, and Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at the ceiling and sulking. Fine then. He wasn't being appreciated.

He sat there in silence, feeling as Eric wrapped the dry cloth around his foot and pulled the other sock off, before using it to hold the cloth to his injured one in place. When he was done, Kyle rolled over on to his side to let Cartman know he was receiving the could shoulder. Teach him a lesson for being rude. Instead of acknowledging it, though, Eric just shoved a few pillows behind him before walking around to the other side of the bed. He crouched down, looking Kyle in the eyes. "You have the shittiest fucking singing voice I've ever heard," he smirked, before leaning forward to press a kiss to Kyle's forehead. Kyle stared at him, mouth agape as the brunet stood and left the room without another word.

By morning, Kyle remembered little. Stan was in the bed beside him, propped up by Kyle and the pillows that stopped him from rolling over. His head was pounding, mouth dry, and foot in searing pain. Kyle blinked, fighting to keep his eyes awake despite the headache and sun. On the bedside table sat a crystal wine glass of water, and a couple of little red Advil.

Kyle snatched them up, popping the Advil in husband mouth before downing the water and swearing not to drink again.


	8. Chapter Eight

**_Mid October, 2017_**

"She's too good for him," Kyle whispered, for about the thousandth time in the last month or so.

Around the end of September, Cartman had started dating Heidi. It was next to impossible to hide his jealousy over it. He shouldn't care, he knew that. They hadn't done anything together since the summer, and even their fighting had tamed down with the demand of work from school. Still, Kyle was mad about it. Heidi was too good for him. Cartman's whole personality changed when he was around her. Stan said it was for the better, maybe he was calming down. That it gave Cartman something to do besides throw slurs about Kyle and his mom around. Stan, Kyle and Kenny were all fairly certain he was lying, acting like a sweet, loving person simply to keep his new girlfriend. Stan was optimistic, though. Kyle was wiser, though. He saw through Cartman, knew this had to be some ploy to piss him off. It was always a god damned ploy to get under Kyle's skin.

And be damned if it wasn't working.

"Dude," Stan groaned, waving his hand in front of Kyle's face to distract him from staring down Cartman and Heidi in English class. "Who cares? Since when did you care about Heidi's welfare before she started seeing him?" Kyle didn't. Kyle couldn't have given two shits about her, before now. He didn't really have a response for it, and gripped his pen tighter as he tried to focus on whatever bullshit Garrison was spewing. They had Mr. Garrison every year for English since they were in grade school, and he hadn't changed in the slightest. But it was impossible to focus, every few minutes hearing stupid fucking Heidman giggle and compliment each other.

He tried to focus, he really did. But if he had to hear Cartman tell Heidi how smart and funny she was one more fucking time...  
"You're so smart, babe," he heard a few seconds after his thought and Kyle's pen snapped in his hand. "Argh!" The blue ink was already getting all over his fucking hands. Stan just looked at him, face full of concern and confusion. Kyle snatched up his binder, shoving it into his bag and getting out of his seat. "I have to go to the bathroom," Kyle snapped, not giving a fuck about Mr. Garrison yelling at him to get back in his seat as he slammed the door behind him. The hallways were mostly empty, and Kyle instantly felt calmer. Just being away from that fat fuck and his perfect girlfriend did wonders. He was taking the rest of the period off, knowing full well Mr. Garrison wasn't going to do much about it. It wasn't the first time Kyle had stormed out of one of his classes and it probably wouldn't be the last. Kyle got perfect marks, there was no point in punishing him because he needed to leave every now and then.

Wandering through the halls, Kyle stopped when he saw Craig sitting on the floor outside of one of the classrooms. "Why aren't you in class?" Craig asked, seemingly pleased to have someone to talk to. "Cartman was pissing me off," Kyle explained, and decided to stay and chat for a while. "What'd you do?" Craig shrugged, yanking his hat down a bit further over his ears, and then twirled the tassel around. "Told Mr. Grant to go fuck himself." Kyle figured.

"I'm going to the vending machine, want anything?" Kyle asked, mostly because Craig and Cartman hated each other, and the enemy of his enemy was his friend. Craig pursed his lips in thought for a moment, before deciding. "Cool ranch Doritos. And a bottle of Pepsi, if you're feeling particularly generous." Hoisting his backpack over his shoulder, Kyle gave him a thumbs up. "You got it."

The trip didn't take more than three minutes, but the vending machine was being fucking difficult, trapping the bag between the glass. He'd managed to knock it down by getting a pack of M&M's to fall on top of it. Craig's lucky day. When he returned, Craig was still in the same position, and Kyle tossed the chips, pop and chocolate down to him. Even sitting, Craig looked freakishly tall. "Anyway, I'm going to zone out in the library, good luck, man." Kyle nodded his head in goodbye, and Craig lifted the hand he held the Pepsi in thanks. "Thanks, dude."

Kyle turned down the hall in the direction of the library, not paying attention to where he was going. Stan was texting him about why he'd left, and just as Kyle was typing his reply that Cartman's presence was just throwing off his focus, he'd bumped into someone else wandering the halls.  
"'Ello, Kyle."

Oh for fucks sake. Kyle looked up, Christophe's sunken eyes and bushy brows staring down at him. "Not now, Christophe," Kyle groaned, and the French guy smirked down at him. Kyle had never quite understood that stupid cat in the Looney Tunes until he'd met Christophe. He started out alright, but he'd taken a liking to Kyle and sure liked to make him aware of it. It's not like Kyle even knew him. All he knew about Christophe was that he was way too skilled in sneaking around, and that he thought Kyle was attractive. And he had some weird love hate relationship with his step brother. Kyle brushed past him, focusing now on the library as Christophe called out to him.

"Un jour, Kyle, un jour!"

-

 _ **Halloween, 2017**_

Kyle felt stupid. Hell, Kyle looked stupid. Out of all the genius group and couple costumes, they unanimous group vote was fucking Will Ferrel characters. And of course, because of his hair, he got Will Ferrel in fucking Semi-Pro. And he was freezing. The end of October meant snow, and all Kyle was in was a jersey and shorts, hair held back by a sweatband. Stan had said his ass looked great and the high socks were strangely sexy, but it was easy for him to be comfortable in a god damned suit. And fucking Kenny wasn't even a Will Ferrel character. He'd paired with Cartman's Chazz Michael Michael's to be Johnny MacElroy. Arguably, they looked great in their purple and white space suits that they'd made, but still. They wore full body costumes!

Even Butters, as Mr. Mugatu and Heidi as Buddy the Elf got warmer costumes than him. Kyle was bitter. At least he had a weapon, though. He could do damage with a basketball. Not to mention, it gave his hands something to do, dribbling it down the street as they made their way to school for the Halloween dance. "Why are we even going to this?" Kyle asked. School dances were lame, they all agreed on that.

"Because it's our last year, we gotta make some memories and be in the year book and shit," Kenny said, walking backwards on the sidewalk in front of them. His little light glinted in the dark, setting a strange glow against everyone. "Besides, no one is having any good parties and none of our parents are loaning us a car to go to the city. Not to mention it's a Tuesday. It's the only thing to do," Stan said, tossing an arm around Kyle's shoulder and causing him to mess up his dribble. Kenny tossed the ball back to him, and Kyle held on to it now. He supposed they had a point, but Kyle'd rather be home than watch Cartman and Heidi coo over each other. They got it, she looked cute in her costume. And yes, her little quotes of the movie were funny. The first time.

-

Several hours into the dance, Kyle was in a bit of a better spirit. Someone had spiked the punch, giving a pleasant buzz to the high schoolers in the gymnasium. The music was good, the dancing was fun. He'd whipped his basketball at Cartman's head a long time ago, which left his hands free to cling to Stan. Surprisingly the sweatband came in handy, and his costume in the hot gym was a now a blessing. Stan had shrugged off most of his Ron Burgundy costume a while ago. The only problem was now, with Stan's mustache and without the burgundy jacket, he looked like Burt Reynolds. Not Kyle's favourite look, but incredibly funny.

It was about nine thirty when Kyle excused himself out of the gym to get some cooler air from the hallway. He felt a little tipsy, but nothing he couldn't handle. He felt good, really. Better than he had the entire year so far. It was nice to relax a little. Even if it was only Tuesday.

"Kyle?" A soft voice asked, and Kyle turned to see Heidi, all bright and Christmasey. She did look cute in her costume. Which was kind of infuriating. The hat was adorable, green. His favourite colour. Kyle hated her. "Oh, hey," he greeted, and Heidi's eyes narrowed. She must have heard the disdain in his voice. "What's your problem with me?" Heidi asked, folding her arms across her chest. Kyle pushed himself off the wall, turning to look at her. She was fairly tall, for a girl. Within an inch of Kyle. It was slightly intimidating, being eye level with her.

"Nothing," he lied. Heidi wasn't buying it, though. She wasn't stupid, Kyle had heard how smart he was for the last month and a half now. She stared him down, and Kyle decided to say what he'd been saying for ages. "You're too good for him," he gestured to the gym. "He's an ignorant, scheming, conniving, antisemitic, racist, asshole, Heidi!" The girl opened her mouth to argue, but her head tilted as she thought. Kyle could see her gears turning in her head. "He's lying to you. That's what he does. He charms, convinces people he's something he isn't to get what he wants!" Kyle desperately wanted to tell her he was only doing this with her to piss Kyle off. But he'd only come off as paranoid and jealous, which would lead to questions on why Kyle would even be jealous of someone else with Eric Cartman.

Heidi watched Kyle for a few moments, before speaking herself. "Do you love Stan, Kyle?"

"What?"

"Do you love Stan?" Heidi asked again. Kyle didn't speak immediately, trying to figure out what her game was. "Of course I do. What's that got to do with Eric Cartman?" Heidi had the look on her face like she knew more than she let on, and Kyle's heart began to pound at his chest. Did Cartman tell her? He couldn't have. It would make this little game of Nice Cartman look even more like a lie than it already was. Unless Heidi was playing Kyle, making stuff up to see if she could figure out why exactly Kyle was so adamant that Cartman wasn't a good person for her. Kyle threw on his poker face quickly.

"You tell me," the brunette spoke, eyes slightly narrowed. She turned on her toes in the green slippers, reminding Kyle of a ballerina. He watched her go back to the gym, and leaned against the wall again with a groan.

 _ **Christmas Eve, 2017**_

The Christmas break couldn't have come sooner. Kyle was grateful for the few weeks off school. The stress was high for everyone, and Kyle never did all to well when he was stressed out. He'd fought with everyone who even got in his way, from Stan to Kenny, Ike. Cartman, of course. But only in the few moments when Heidi wasn't present. Not that Cartman paid him half a mind when Heidi was around. But Heidi paid attention to Kyle. He felt like she always had one eye on him at all times, watching. Watching him and Stan, watching how Kyle looked at Cartman. Just... observing. It was unnerving, and Kyle needed to know what she knew.

Currently, everyone was piled into the Marsh household for their Christmas Eve party for the neighbors. It was the first time in a while where Cartman had been without Heidi at his side. Kyle was grateful for it, being away from her watchful and judgemental gaze. Being the holidays, Kyle's parents had allowed him to drink. Randy always let Stan, Sharon not commenting much on it so long as Stan was under her roof. But Kyle was only allowed wine, which suited him fine. Christophe had gifted him a bottle, much to Kyle's dismay. It was coming in handy tonight, though. Kyle was on his third glass. He could feel the flush in his cheeks from it. His mother wasn't paying much attention to him, thinking it was still his first. Kyle was careful to never let her see it empty, or fuller than it had been when she last saw it.

It also helped that, after dinner, Kyle had decided to hide away in the kitchen for a bit. Stan and his dad were getting a bit loud, seated on the couch and chortling over A Christmas Story on the TV. The other adults were congregated in the living room or dining room, chatting about the holidays and how happy they were going to be tomorrow when they no longer had to worry about it. Kyle sat on the kitchen counter, staring down into his wine glass between sips. He found himself growing a bit tired, from the food and the alcohol no doubt, but also mentally.

"Happy Hanukkah, Jew," Cartman said, leaning on the door jamb.

"It ended four days ago, Cartman." Kyle rolled his eyes. "It's not even a big holiday. They only make it a thing because of Christmas." Kyle had long since gotten over his Christmas envy. He figured all Jewish kids went through it. The novelty of a Hanukah bush was usually a short lived one. "The polite thing to say is 'Merry Christmas, Eric.' I don't need a Israeli History Lesson." Kyle said nothing, picking up the bottle of wine and topping up his glass. He offered the bottle to Cartman in a small, likely temporary, Christmas peace offering. Eric held out a hand to say no thank you, opting instead to grab a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

"Your hippy boyfriend is drunk out there, you should be watching him."

Kyle laughed, shaking his head. "No thanks. He's stupid when he drinks with his dad. I can't handle it." He really couldn't. They were loud, they screamed, they usually ended up play fighting and breaking shit. Thinking of it, Kyle brought the wine glass to his lips and chugged it back. His inner sommelier chastised him for such a thing. Considering it sounded like Christophe, Kyle mentally told it to go fuck itself. He made to pour more into his glass, only to have Cartman snatch it away from him. "Don't become a wino, Kyle."

"It's Christmas," Kyle protested. It was a weak argument and he knew it. Ever since they'd been old enough to properly comprehend things like drugs, sex and alcohol on a more adult level, Cartman tended to look down on drinking and drugs. His mom sort of burned that teenage need to experiment with them out of him at an early age. Out of respect for it, Kyle didn't fight for his wine back. He had plenty, anyway. And like Cartman said, he didn't want to become one of those moms who popped pain killers and drank wine to get through the day. Placing a hand on Cartman's shoulder, Kyle pulled him over and wrapped his arms around the fatter boy in a hug. "Merry Christmas," he grumbled, not wanting to fight or think about his stupid drunk boyfriend or his own stupid tipsy self. Cartman hugged him back, tense and awkward.

"Merry Christmas, Kyle."

Cartman pulled back a little, but Kyle had locked his ankle around his thigh without thinking much about it. Being on the counter allowed Kyle a rare feeling of being a bit taller than him, yet he still felt a little vulnerable. The wine, no doubt. But it also made Kyle needy. Biting into his lip, Kyle looked down into Cartman's brown eyes, before bridging their gap to initiate a small kiss. Cartman didn't move right away, but he pulled his head back a few seconds later to whisper. "Stan's literally a room a way."

"It's okay," Kyle said back, quiet. It wasn't okay. It absolutely wasn't okay and he knew that, but he didn't care. He just kissed Eric again, slow and soft until he kissed him back. Kyle felt his hand rest at the nape of his neck, deepening their kiss. Kyle tasted cranberry sauce and the apple pie they had for dessert. The vanilla ice cream that went with it. It was like Kyle was starving, and Eric was the sweetest thing he'd tasted in a while. He gripped on to the knitted and ugly sweater Cartman wore, clinging to it like it was a life line. They both forgot they weren't really alone, not until Cartman shot away from him as they heard a loud crash from the living room and some yelling. They looked around, and calmed slightly when no one came into the kitchen.

"Come over," the redhead said, quiet so as not to be heard. Cartman's eyes flicked to the direction of the living room. Kyle could see the doubt on his face. "Please?"

Eventually, Cartman nodded, and took Kyle's hand to help him off the counter. He dropped it quickly, the two of them leaving the kitchen together. Sure enough, Stan and Randy must have broken the lamp on one of the side tables, judging by Sharon's lecturing and Stan, Kenny and Randy sitting on the couch looking like scolded children. Kyle hesitated for a moment, resisting the urge to look at Eric. "I'm heading home, I'm really tired," he announced, not that anyone was really paying attention. He walked past the broken ceramic, thanking Sharon for the meal. "Don't drink too much," he mumbled to Stan, leaning down to press a small kiss against his lips quickly. "Love you." A lump formed in his throat at saying it. Behind him, he could hear Eric telling his mom he'd see her at home, that he was gonna walk Kyle to his place and head home himself. "Love you too, babe," Stan grinned, grabbing Kyle's hand to give it a squeeze before letting it go.

Kyle turned in time to watch Liane place a kiss on her son's cheek. "Of course, sugarplum. Merry Christmas, I love you," she coddled, peppering his face with several more kisses before allowing him to leave.

Once outside, Kyle relaxed as they crossed over the Marsh's snowy lawn to get to Kyle's front door. It was unlocked, none of them seeing any sense to lock it while they were next door. Kyle felt grateful for the small miracle that Ike was over at Filmore's for dinner, leaving the house empty and his knowing glare from watching them leave the Marsh house together. When the door shut behind them, Kyle took Eric's hand in his and lead him up the stairs to his bedroom. Once there, Kyle turned to face him. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He'd just left his boyfriends house with the intention of sleeping with one of their best friends. Fuck. He kept a hold on Eric's hand, though. Leading him to the bed, where he dropped it and climbed on top. Kyle kicked his shoes off, Cartman doing the same before sitting beside him.

Kyle sat up on his knees, leaning forward to kiss Eric again. In the privacy of his room, Kyle relaxed a little more. There wasn't a fear of someone walking in and catching them like this. They were quick to resume where they left off, and Kyle sucked Eric's bottom lip between his teeth to nip at playfully. He felt as Cartman's hand slipped around his waist, pulling them closer together until their chests were pressed against one another. He had half a mind to take this slowly, savour the moment. They hadn't done this since the summer, and Kyle hadn't quite realized how pent up he'd been. There'd hardly been time to fool around with Stan, let alone get his rocks off with either of them. The fact he thought the term 'either of them' made Kyle feel dirty. The feeling of Eric's hands sliding up his shirt washed it away, though. His fingers danced along Kyle's spine, sending shivers down his back. Kyle hummed in appreciation against Cartman's lips, only to feel them move down his jaw and along his throat. They'd learned long ago to stop leaving marks there, after Kyle had given him shit about Ike seeing them. He could feel Eric's teeth graze against his skin, and Kyle couldn't help but want to feel him bite down and leave them anyway.

Sliding his hands between them, Kyle pulled at the hem of the sweater Cartman wore. Some stupid Happy Birthday Jesus ugly sweater. No doubt worn to get a bit of a rise from the Broflovski clan, Kyle guessed.

It didn't take long to undress each other. They'd fallen back into their familiar rhythm fairly quickly. Kyle cursed himself for thinking about how natural it felt, as compared to the fumbling awkwardness he and Stan normally had. But it made sense, he supposed. He and Cartman had done their dance since they were kids. They knew each others moves, were capable of moving in sync. And they'd done this plenty of times before to be experienced at it together.

Eric resumed their kiss whilst he started to pull Kyle's boxers down, as always leaving Kyle to kick them the rest of the way himself. He never did all of the work, of course. Kyle couldn't expect Cartman to ever do more than he had to, even during sex. There had to be equal give or take, otherwise Kyle would be stuck doing everything himself while Cartman laid on his back with his arms behind his head to watch. Not that Kyle had necessarily minded those times, it was opportunity to take control. Kyle wondered for a moment if it was the same with Heidi, and instantly he regretted thinking it. The jealousy flared up again, burning his insides. Kyle slipped his hands into Eric's hair, tugging hard at the roots as he took control of the kiss. The possessive part of him wanted to yell at him, to dump Heidi. To hell with her, Kyle was better in every way possible. But Kyle could play that conversation in his head and find the outcome. Dump Stan, be with Cartman. Not happening. Stan was his future.

But this wasn't future. This was now, and Kyle needed Cartman now. The future was always going to be there.

Laid flat on his back, nude with Cartman leaning over top of him, Kyle felt vulnerable again. The look on Eric's face was a strange one, and when he spoke it was a compliment. "God, you're gorgeous," he said, voice husky and rough. It made Kyle uncomfortable. Made this feel a bit too personal. It was Stan's job to say such things. And yet, despite feeling both uncomfortable and vulnerable in his position, Kyle couldn't help but feel slightly... validated? An odd choice of word, he thought , but a good explaination nonetheless.

Cartman leaned forward, pressing kisses down Kyle's chest. It sent tingles through his body, and Kyle willed his body to relax and enjoy it. He banished all thoughts of everyone else, concocting a strange little fantasy where Eric replaced Stan in his life. That they'd go to the same university together. Get their first apartment. Find good jobs. Buy their first house. Get married. Adopt or surrogate a child. Grow old together. Die together. Kyle's eyes closed, picturing his imaginary behind his lids. He hummed in pleasure, be it from his fantasy or the feeling of Eric's lips around his erection.

Kyle couldn't help but think how nice it seemed.

-

Kyle was sore, sweaty and tired. It had been a long while since anything had been inside him. Obviously, Eric had grown since they were children. They all had. And though he wasn't I bigger than Stan, it wasn't painless. Far from it. Especially since Kyle had snapped at Cartman to get on with it. He slightly regretted cutting short the foreplay. But Kyle was satisfied nonetheless, thoroughly fucked and satiated.

The guilt was there, of course. It always was.

"Stay for a bit," Kyle mumbled into his pillow, not wanting to turn over and make even more of a mess of his sheets. Cartman had wiped him up with a couple tissues when they'd finished, but Kyle wouldn't feel comfortable until he hopped in the shower and washed the sweat off his body and semen from between his ass cheeks. But Kyle wanted to live in his little fantasy land a while longer, and he reached out to grab Eric's wrist to keep him from leaving. He watched as Cartman paused, debating internally on it. But eventually he sat back down, allowing Kyle to rest his head on his chest and pull the blankets over them. "Let me pretend for a bit," Kyle said softly, closing his eyes. He was tired. Still sorta wine drunk. Fucked out.

"Pretend what?" Cartman asked, rubbing circles into the small of Kyle's back.

"That I'm not a horrible fucking person," Kyle yawned. He felt Cartman's laugh through his chest more than he heard it.

They said nothing more, and Eric was gone when Kyle awoke Christmas morning.


	9. Chapter Nine

_**May 26th, 2018**_

Something shifted over the course of the winter holidays. As if Kyle had just straight up accepted the need for Cartman. And that he'd been screwing around behind Stan's back dozens of times before, what was one more time? The only problem was one more time added up, to several more times through the holidays. And when the time came to go back to school for his final semester of high school, Kyle figured he might as well go big or go home. He could, in theory, see them both. Stan was his support, his rock. He was there for Kyle in a way no one else was, and vice versa. Cartman was just... stress relief..?

That sounded kind of cruel. Kyle opted more to think of it like... Stan was his emotional and mental partner. Eric was physical. Not that Stan was bad or anything, but there were more pressing matters to deal with as the days loomed closer to final exams. And sex wasn't as easy with Stan as it was Cartman. Kyle knew that was entirely his own fault, he was the awkward one there. The suffocating guilt of lying about his virginity was difficult. And Kyle had to act like he wasn't as knowledgeable as he was now. There was this fine balance of trying to be good in bed yet not too good that Stan would instantly know something was up. And Stan knew everything there was to possibly know.

Aside from the guilt, that was probably the most stressful thing about his sex life with Stan. That and the first time they actually had sex, which was today, Kyle's birthday in May, he couldn't help but lay there after and feel like he was cheating on Cartman.

On his side, Kyle lay with his head on Stan's naked chest. The morning spring air blew in through the open window, fresh and with the scent of dew. Kyle had slept over the night before, getting his first round of birthday sex the moment their phones switched over to midnight. It was good, great even. Slow at first, and Kyle had felt every ounce of love Stan had for him. Kyle didn't know how he felt about it though. The two times after it were more fun, switching positions, figuring out each other's bodies and preferences. But still, it didn't feel right. Again. His own fault.

"We should get up," Stan said, and Kyle jumped when he felt the playful smack on his bare ass. Kyle groaned, pressing his face into Stan's chest, tired from the late night. "Lets skip," he suggested, though knowing very well they couldn't. The final project for their business class was supposed to be presented today. Stan chuckled, sitting up and forcing Kyle off him.

He didn't want to go to school, didn't want to see Cartman. It was inevitable though, since tonight Liane had volunteered to spend the night at a gentleman callers house so Eric could host Kyle's eighteenth birthday party. Between Stan's drinking, Kyle's illicit affair, the fact that Cartman invited Christophe simply to bug him... Kyle wasn't super pumped for it.

He was eighteen. Fuck. Was that to young to have an existential crisis?

"Come on, lazy ass, get up." Stan chucked some clothes at him, bringing Kyle from his own thoughts. He looked up at his boyfriend, temporarily confused. But there must have been something else written on his face, because Stan looked down at him with concern. Stan asked, "What's wrong..?"

Kyle quickly wiped it off his face, hopping out of the bed and began to dress himself. "Nothing, just thinking," Kyle explained. Stan wasn't buying it though, and he moved closer to examine Kyle further. "It's just... eighteen. I'm an adult. Fuck, Stan..." Kyle leaned forward, slumping against Stan's chest. He pressed his cheek to his boyfriends heart, feeling its beat. "I feel old. It sucks." That wasn't the only issue, but it got Stan to stop pressing. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Kyle's shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. They swayed for a moment in their embrace, before Stan let him go to finish getting ready for school.

The party was pretty sweet, to be honest. Kyle was rather surprised at the turn out, Cartman's place packed with people. He and Stan had been the last to arrive, Stan insisting that it would be lame if Kyle went over earlier than everyone else. All it did was give Kyle more time to let the anxiety build up, but Stan had given him a few birthday shots and beer to 'pre-game' before they crossed lawns to Cartman's around eight thirty. When they had gotten there, they were greeted by a very drunk Kenny with an equally drunk Ike on his shoulders. Kyle had begun to lecture, only to have Kenny smack his hand over his mouth and yell that it was a party and to let the kid have fun.

Halfway through the night, Ike was completely out of commission. Kyle didn't know just how much alcohol Kenny pumped into him, but he was out cold in the blonde's lap, and would likely wake up with the most killer of hang overs. Kenny didn't seem to mind carting around, though, despite being absolutely wrecked himself. In fact, Kenny seemed thrilled to babysit. He held Ike in his lap like a baby, stroking his hair and cooing at him every now and then. Kyle would have ripped him a new one for getting Ike so drunk, but so long as Kenny kept an eye on him and kept him safe, he wouldn't fight them. Especially as long as Kenny kept his perverted little hands to himself. They spoke for a while, about his birthday, how they were both now the adults to their child friends Stan and Eric. About how Kenny had just hit two hundred thousand subscribers and was so posting Kyle's party to his vlog.

"Don't you fucking dare, man," Kyle threatened, raising a finger to wave it at Kenny's face. Kenny wasn't listening, one hand holding Ike's head to his chest while the other filmed with his iPhone. "I gotta man," Kenny said, letting Ike go to hold onto it with both hands. Ike slumped down, flopped onto the arm of the sofa now as Kenny turned the camera to Kyle. "I'm getting sponsored by Best Fiends. Do you play Best Fiends, Kyle? Did you okay their Easter event?" Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Stop using my birthday as a way to make money!" Kyle protested, flipping off the camera before trying to smack at it, only to have Kenny pull it back. Kyle lost control of his momentum, nearly falling on top of Ike in Kenny's lap. Kenny laughed, getting every moment of it on camera. "I bought you a bangin' birthday present with that sweet sweet advertising money, Kyle. Say you love Best Fiends. Say it!"

"I'm going to find Stan," Kyle said after growing tired of watching him behind his phone. Kenny looked over it, flashing Kyle a vibrant grin and made a motion for Kyle to lean in. Kyle did, expecting to be told something. Instead, Kenny grabbed the front of Kyle's shirt and dragged him forward to place a wet kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday, dude!" Kyle wrenched away, contorting his face into disgust as he wiped away Kenny's spit from his lips. "Ugh! Gross, dude. You're like a dog!" He flipped off the camera again, but it seemed like Kenny had turned it to front facing view to capture himself laughing like a lunatic.

Kyle rolled his eyes, going off on his search. It wasn't Stan he wanted to find, not really. He knew where Stan was. He was on the other side of the room, arms waving wildly around and splashing beer from his can as he told a couple people something. Kyle wondered what on earth it was about, until the gestures Stan made clearly indicated he was telling them about fucking Kyle. He felt his face heat up with anger. But Kyle let it go, opting to stomp upstairs to find the other person he wanted to see. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to think Stan telling people about their sex life was okay.

Once upstairs, it was significantly quieter. Only a couple people congregated in the hall way or waiting for the bathroom. Wendy and Bebe were up there, leaning against the wall in wait. Only Wendy looked to be stable, Bebe using the wall to keep herself upright. The blonde bounced happily when she spotted him, yanking him over to hold him in a tight hug. Bebe was taller than him, but at this point? Who wasn't? Kyle hoped to hell his growth spurt would come soon, because his head was squashed between Bebe's breasts and he couldn't help but cry out on distress. "Happy birthday, Kyle!" Bebe screeched, and the tone of her voice told him that she was the definition of white girl wasted. "Oh my goooood, I can't believe you're eighteen! We're all growing up!" Kyle was finally let go, and he looked up at her. He could see tears welling in her eyes. Oh god. Bebe sniffed, carefully wiping any tears away to not smudge her make up or something. "What if we never see each other after graduation, Kyle! I'm gonna miss you soooooo much!" Kyle backed up a little, really not wanting to have this conversation. Wendy held on to Bebe's arm, patting it sympathetically. "Happy birthday, Kyle," the dark haired girl said, clearly sensing his distress at her drunk best friend. "Bebe's super drunk," she explained what Kyle already knew. And Bebe burst into tears, shaking her head wildly and her blonde curls bounced with it. "I'm noooot," she whined, before her eyes widened and Kyle watched her cheeks bulge slightly as she started to gag.

"Move," Wendy called out, pushing the person who was leaving the bathroom out of the way to shove Bebe inside.

Kyle shook his head, before turning on his heel to let himself into Cartman's room. Not that fat boy was anywhere to be found. But at least it was empty, and Kyle could get a bit of a break. He sat himself on Cartman's bed, leaning back on the mattress to look up blankly at the ceiling. It wasn't long before the door opened, and Kyle shot back up. But it wasn't who he expected.

Of fucking course.

"'Bonsoir, mon amour," Christophe purred, and Kyle cursed the God that the French man didn't believe existed. Kyle was doubtful in it himself, now. "Voua regardez ravissante ce soir." Kyle had no idea what the hell that meant, he never bothered to take French nor did he bother to figure out what Christophe was saying half the time. He assumed it was something flirtatious, judging by the sway of Christophe's hips as he came closer to Kyle on the bed.

"Now is really not the time, man," Kyle said, staring up at him with his eyes narrowed. It was strange to see him at a party without a glass of red in his hand, or a cigarette. Hell, the guy didn't even have that shovel he carried around everywhere. Christophe didn't seemed to be phased by Kyle's warning look, though. He never was. Always just chuckled when Kyle managed to worm away and run off. Which was why Kyle figured he liked the chase more than he actually liked Kyle.

Christophe just smiled down at him, winking as he stood with his legs on either side of Kyle's. Leaning back in discomfort, Kyle tried to get more space. "Ton petit ami eat ivre," Christophe tsked. "Tu es trop bon pour lui." Kyle placed his hands flat on the bed behind him, to support his lean. He stared up at the tall guy with confusion. "English, dude. No idea what the fuck you're talking about." But Christophe was leaning way to close to be comfortable now, leering over Kyle like some sort of predatory... predator! Despite not having wine with him, Christophe was close enough now where Kyle could smell it on his breath. Fucking fantastic.

"Dude, get off me."

Christophe neither heard nor listened, creeping forward until his knees were on the bed, long legs trapping Kyle under him. His head was bent at an awkward angle from the wall, and a brief though flitted through his head about maybe a double chin turning Christophe off. Kyle squished his chin closer to his neck to emphasize it.

It didn't work.

"Magnifique, absolument délicieux," the Francophone mumbled, pressing his lips against Kyle's in a kiss that was far to forceful. His eyes widened, lifting his hands to push Christophe off, even if it made him slump more uncomfortably against the wall. He'd risk a broken neck, he didn't give a fuck. "Dude, get off!" Kyle yelled, half tempted to knee him in the balls. And Christophe didn't give up, smirking down at him as if the fight was part of the fun. Kyle didn't know him nearly enough to be into this shit, boyfriend and side piece aside. Christophe went for another kiss, this time along Kyle's jaw. He felt teeth and facial hair scraping against his skin, unsettling because it was from someone who was clearly not Stan or Cartman. Or anyone he was even remotely attracted too!

"Aargh!" Kyle growled, beginning to panic, and decided that all was fair in the game of unwanted sexual contact. He brought both his knees up to smash into Christophe's balls, and the Frenchman reeled back, allowing Kyle enough room to lift his legs up and kick him square in the chest, sending Christophe to the floor. Kyle hopped up off the bed, enraged and ready to beat the shit out of him for touching Kyle where and when Kyle didn't want it. Christophe was lifting himself off the floor, but Kyle wasn't having it. He kicked at his side, repeatedly and with as much strength as he could muster. He could hear Christophe yelling at him to stop, but Kyle didn't listen. "You didn't listen to me when I told you to fucking stop!" Kyle yelled back, laughing down at him.

"What the fuck, Kyle?!"

Kyle stopped mid kick, looking up at Cartman with wide eyes.

"Hi," he said, stupidly. Cartman looked between him and Christophe, who was looking positively sulky. Kyle pulled his foot away, and sank back down on the bed, watching as Eric helped Christophe up only to shove him out of the room and slam the door, locking it. "What the hell happened?" He asked, and Kyle shrugged. He stared down at the floor for a few moments, mind going a mile a minute. He couldn't even keep track of his own thoughts to know what he was thinking about it. When Kyle looked up at the sound of his name being called, he found his vision was blurred by tears he didn't even know were there.

Wiping at his eyes with his sleeves, Kyle shook his head. "Nothing. He's just drunk and pushy and I'm just miserable about getting older." Kyle complained, and he shouldn't be. It was his birthday. There were piles of presents for him downstairs, a house full of people to celebrate for him. Well, not really. They weren't here for Kyle. They were here for a party first, Kyle's birthday was just the excuse for one the way two months ago they had one for Kenny. And one for Clyde. And for every other friend of there's whose birthday came and went.

Kyle kicked off his shoes, and curled up on his side against the wall on Cartman's bed. He patted beside him, and the larger boy climbed in beside him. They stared at each other for a few minutes, before Kyle started to just complain. "I hate this," he said. "I hate that I'm getting older and I hate that I'm getting mad about it even though it's inevitable and I couldn't change it anyway. But it's like... it's like it's going too fast. A few more months and we won't even be high schoolers. All of a sudden it just feels like we have to grow up, you know? And I hate that I'm lying to Stan all the fucking time, and I hate that I clearly don't care enough to stop this. Or maybe I care too much about you, I don't fucking know!" Kyle's voice was rough, angry. Angry at himself and angry at life in general. He hated it. He felt his cheeks flush with rage at just... everything.

And Cartman..? Cartman started fucking laughing at him. "Argh! Fuck you, fat ass. It's not funny!"

"It is, who the fuck cries on their birthday?" Cartman continued to chuckle, and Kyle reached out to pinch his arm. "You're a dick," Kyle grumbled, shifting closer and pressed his face into the crook of Eric's neck. He felt the other young man's arms wrap around him, and he couldn't help but feel that much better. "I had sex with Stan today," he muttered, nuzzling his face against Cartman's skin and inhaled. He heard him snort, and could almost feel the eye roll.

"How was it, then?" The brunet asked, rubbing at Kyle's back. Kyle attempted a nonchalant shrug. "It was alright. Awkward at times. I felt bad, I think he could tell in the morning that something was off."

"Why don't you break up with him?" Eric asked, and Kyle pulled away to glare at him. He hated that question, every time Cartman brought it up. He knew what the answer would be, why wouldn't he just leave it be. "Why don't you break up with Heidi, then? You don't even love her. I love Stan." That's why he was with Stan. He loved Stan. His feelings for Cartman didn't negate that.

"Yeah? And where is he and where are you?" Cartman snapped back, matching the angry look on Kyle's face. They both knew where he was, downstairs and drinking away any suspicions he may have about Kyle. It's what Stan did. Stan drank to have fun, relax, and forget about his stresses. Every reason Stan had to drink was one Kyle had to excuse himself for this thing with Cartman. They had their own vices.

Kyle bit into his lip, before shaking his head. "I'm not leaving him for you," he hissed. Cartman scoffed, shifting away from Kyle on the bed. "Believe me, Jew, I know that. God forbid you do anything that'll make you look bad. Oh, wait. No. God forbid anyone finds out you did anything that'll make you look bad." That stung a little, and Kyle turned to his other side to face the wall. He didn't want to leave, the comfort of Cartman's bed was soothing and familiar. But he needed to make it known that he wasn't going to listen to Cartman's bullshit, even if it was kind of true.

Instead, Eric was the one to get off the bed. Kyle resisted the urge to turn and look at him. He wasn't going to give in, ask him to stay. The angry tears came again. "Exactly," Cartman said, as if his point was proven. Kyle turned his head, trying to look at him. "Exactly what?! Why can't you just leave things be? You always have to say stupid shit. Just... just fucking let this be whatever it is?"

Cartman folded his arms over his chest, face like a petulant child. "Because I'm sick of lying, you dumb Jew! I'm sick of lying to my friends and my mom and my girlfriend, all to save your sorry fucking ass. I'm sick of you disrespecting them and me to save your own skin, you self preserving shithead." Kyle shot up on the bed, brows knitting together in anger.

"I'm disrespecting them? You're also fucking around behind your girlfriends back, fat ass. You don't care about Stan or Heidi. And since when are you sick of fucking lying, huh?! All you ever do is lie." Every insult they threw at one another was just a projection of what they themselves were doing. But for Cartman to say he was tired of lying? Yeah, fucking okay. Kyle rolled his eyes so hard he could almost look at his god damned brain. Lying was a game that Cartman enjoyed and was incredibly fucking good at.

Cartman smacked his foot on the floor, stomping in his tantrum. "Because it isn't getting me what I fuckin' want, Kah-l!" Kyle groaned, Eric's whiney child voice annoying him further. It wasn't like Kyle was some sort of toy that he couldn't fucking have. "You're such a fucking infant, Cartman." Kyle got off the bed, walking the few steps to where Cartman stood. It was his birthday, and Kyle wasn't going to spend it in a pissy mood because Eric was throwing a hissy fit because he wouldn't break up with his boyfriend. "Listen, fat ass," Kyle held up his hand to stop the other from interrupting him. "I love Stan, I do. I don't know if I'm in love with him or whatever, but he's my life partner, okay? He's smart, he's caring. He keeps me sane, grounds me. He loves me, and I'm not crushing him and ruining his life because that's apparently not good enough for me. It's not fair. But..." Kyle paused, trying to find the right words. He didn't want to give Cartman false hope. He didn't want to give himself false hope. But he needed to be honest, at least to someone. "But sometimes I can't help but wish we waited, okay? We didn't, but he's who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's not fair to take that from him, betray him like that, because I needed to know what it's like to be some kind of tramp."

Kyle brought a hand up to Cartman's cheek, before sliding it across his skin and cupping the back of his neck. He pulled Eric's sulking face down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before speaking against them. "And be real, you and I both know we'd never work anyway. We can hardly be friends for a few months at a time, let alone a couple. Part of why we do this is because it's wrong of us and we like the drama of it all." Eric moved his arms from his chest, wrapping them around Kyle's waist and he held the redhead against him. As they kissed, Kyle couldn't help but go back to the little fantasy world he'd concocted up months ago. But that's all it was, fantasy.

"I don't wanna stop this," Kyle breathed out, pulling his mouth away from Eric's lips to kiss up to his ear lobe. "But we can't make it more than what it is. Can't keep trying to guilt me into leaving Stan, got it?" Kyle emphasized his point by biting hard into the lobe, causing Eric to yelp and pushed Kyle back towards the bed. But Kyle dragged the other with him, back of his legs bumping into the frame. Holding on tightly to Eric's neck, Kyle brought the other to his hips and pulled them closer. Whispering into his ear, Kyle's hand slid from Eric's hip into the front of his jeans.

"Now, it's my fucking birthday, and I would rather like my present from you. Preferably without your whining." Kyle had come to find him for a reason, before it was ruined by Christophe and emotions.


	10. Chapter Ten

_**June, 2018**_

Graduation came, and came fast. The final weeks of school went by in a blur of final projects, exams, and pressure to look for summer jobs. God forbid any of their parents let them run off to college without any work experience under their belt. The only one who got off that was Kenny, considering his YouTube channel was bringing in more of an income at this point than half the families in South Park.

It came at a price, always filming something. Kyle grew tired of it quickly, though Stan and Eric didn't mind having their friend recording everything of their day. Cartman enjoyed Butter's struggle carrying cameras and lights around. It usually ended up on something breaking, Butters panicking about getting in trouble. Kenny was just happy if they got it on camera, resulting in more of what Kenny loved to refer to as his sweet, sweet advertiser money. Instead of a part time job, Kenny got himself a fucking car. Lucky bastard.

Stan got off easier than Kyle too, working behind the counter at his Uncle Jimbo's store. Even Eric had a better go of it, snagging an 'executive assistant' position (secretary, Cartman was a fucking secretary whether he wanted to admit it or not) at City Hall. And what was the only job Kyle got a call back for? Tweek Tweak's. Nothing against it, a job was a job. But he got stuck with food service where Stan got to sit behind a counter and read hunting magazines and Eric did menial tasks for the mayor.

Needless to say, the day they crossed the stage wasn't one he was all to keen on. Sure, he graduated. It was amazing, blah blah blah. There was a dance, which was lame. They were given dinner, which Kyle knew wasn't kosher. There was even an after party that Kyle didn't go to, given he had to be up for the 5am shift with Tweek the next morning. What a better way to transition into adulthood than having to leave your high school party early to get up for work with the sun?

The benefit to early starts were early ends, however. He got off at one, whereas Tweek was there all day. He felt sorry for the kid, saddled with long hours working. It'd work out fine for him, in the long run the place would be Tweek's if his parents didn't sell it to some person overseas. But Kyle sympathized with him all the same, his days spent whipping up lattes and wiping tables. Hell, Kyle felt so bad for the guy he stayed an hour late the first day just so Tweek could take a seat with Craig and dump coffee down his gullet to refuel before zipping off to work.

Twitches and ticks aside, the blonde could work circles around Kyle.

His first Monday was perhaps the worst so far. He'd worked the Saturday and Sunday just fine, the customers steady but manageable. It was this first week day that threw Kyle for a loop. It was as if every two hours, the storefront was packed with people. On the way to work. On a break. On their way home. It was like clockwork, one Tweek was so accustomed to that he danced around the store with a grace Kyle had never noticed before. So this was why Craig had no problem sitting in the store day in and day out waiting for him, watching him. He was in his element, and Kyle was just a bumbling fool in his way.

"It get easier," Tweek had said, when Kyle got a faceful of iced green tea to the face. The customer had wanted chamomile, apparently. Kyle heard him say green, had said he'd heard green. Then he was told not to argue, and the drink was in his face. Hair soaked and visor dripping, Tweek had handed the man his green tea while Kyle stood there looking like an asshole. "People are dicks," Kyle hissed, thanking Craig silently when he flipped the man off as he left. Tweek nodded in agreement.

"Take, uh. Take your break. I can handle it," the blonde said. Kyle clapped him on the back in thanks, stepping out from behind the counter. He needed some air. Thankfully the shop was mostly empty, save for a few people and Craig sitting in. The door chimed behind him, and Kyle leaned against the window.

"Oh my god," he heard, and Kyle looked to his left to see Cartman come strolling up the street. He was dressed smartly, business casual for his first day on the job. "You look fucking adorable. Bit wet, though."

"No shit, fat ass," Kyle snapped. He resented the adorable comment. His hair barely fit the visor, and brown apron didn't suit his complexion. He felt like a god damned Thanksgiving cornucopia in the uniform of browns and warm tones, especially with his hair. He couldn't help but envy the green of Starbucks, a much more flattering colour...

Cartman continued to laugh, reaching out to yank the visor down and covered Kyle's eyes. He waved at the taller boys hands, trying to get him to stop fiddling with it but Eric held it down. "Fuck you, man," Kyle yelled as he got a hard slap on Cartman's wrist. He let go, rubbing at his arm. "What happened to you, anyway?" The fat fuck asked, hand resting on the door handle. Kyle gave a noncommittal shrug, wiping at the dampness of is shirt and apron. "Tea to the face. Welcome to the service industry. Not the best start."

Kyle just hoped that Tweek was right. That it'd be easier as the days went on. His first day, Tweek had warned him customers would be the worst in the beginning. That they'd grow nicer as they warmed up to you and tested your limits. Well, Kyle was already at his. Cartman was amused by it, though. He could see him holding back laughter. "Poor little working Jew," he said as he rolled his eyes. "Get that ass back to work, I want you to serve me. Be my bitch for five minutes."

Kyle pulled out his phone from his back pocket. It'd been five minutes, and technically it wasn't his delegated break time so he probably should get back to work now tag he'd cooled down a little. "Fuck off, fat ass," Kyle said as Cartman held the door open. Whether he was being polite or just letting Kyle go first so he could stare as his ass, Kyle didn't know nor care.

"Call me Sir, Jew. I'm a customer. I'll tell your manager you're being rude," Cartman said, watching Kyle as he went back behind the counter. The look in his eyes was challenging, as if he knew Kyle wouldn't stoop so low as to to refer to him as Sir in any sense, customer or not. Well, if he wanted to play that game...

Kyle plastered on his sweetest smile. "Good morning, _sir_. What can I get for you, _sir_." Kyle enunciated each 'sir' slowly, subtly biting his lip to make it look like it wasn't intentional. Kyle knew had the upper hand when Eric's face went from cocky to the look he wore when Kyle dropped to his knees.

"Uh," Cartman said, dumbly, and Kyle had to bite back the smirk of triumph at slipping him up. He recovered quick enough, though. "I need a large iced, half caff, ristoretto four pump vanilla sugar free cinnamon dolce soy skim latte." Kyle stared stared at him for several long seconds.

"Fuck off," he said simply, and Tweek shot him a look to watch his language in the shop. "There's no way you'd drink that, _sir_." Kyle emphasized the last point, and Cartman shrugged. "The mayor wants what the mayor wants."

Then Mayor McDaniels was a fucking pretentious bitch. Or busting Cartman's balls. Kyle hoped for the latter. Kyle was about to ask him to repeat it, but Tweek popped up behind him with the white cup in hand, Mayor McDaniels name written in sharpie with a smiley face. Tweek knew what was up, apparently. Once again impressing Kyle.

"Anything else, _si_ -" Kyle was interrupted again by Tweek's arm shooting past his head, handing another cup with Eric's name written on it. Should have figured. It wasn't like Tweek didn't know what they wanted whenever they came in for coffee before. Vanilla bean cappuccino extra hot for Cartman. Even Kyle kind of shocked himself by remembering it, never really needing to think about it before. "Christ, you're good," Kyle told him, punching in the coffees onto the monitor and holding his hand out for Cartman's money. Tweek shrugged, or maybe it was a nervous tick, not used to Kyle complimenting him.

"When are you done?" Cartman asked, eyes shifting to the clock on the wall behind the counter, stepping aside to let the person behind him tell his order. Something simple, a large dark roast. Thank god. Kyle turned around to the drip machines, grabbing the pot with 'Dark' written on it in white wax pencil. "One," Kyle said as he poured before turning around to hand it to the gentleman and took his bulls. "What about you?" Eric shrugged as Kyle handed the man his change, before leaning forward on the counter on his elbows. No one was behind him for now, and Tweek had gravitated to the other end of the counter to speak to Craig.

Eric rolled his eyes, sipping at his coffee. "Five. Fucking sucks. Office hours blow." Kyle's green eyes rolled, not feeling any sympathy for him whatsoever. At least Cartman got to sleep in. "Wanna switch, I'll deliver coffee and pick up dry cleaning for Mayor McDaniels and you can start work at 5:00am and have people throw iced tea in your face."

Eric shook his head, a smirk on his face as he held his cups in a tray with one hand, leaning over the counter to once again shove Kyle's visor down to cover his eyes. "No thanks, Jew. The uniform suits you." When Kyle pushed it up, displacing the curls even further, he caught Eric's wink and felt his cheeks flush. As he pulled his visor off and slipped a hair tie from his wrist to tie it up, Eric made way to the door. As he held it open to leave, he turned and bid Tweek and Craig adieu. "Text me later," he said with a 'wave' that was more akin to a Nazi salute. Fuckface.

Kyle turned back to the coffee counter, catching Craig's eye for a moment. Kyle stared back. "What?" Craig shrugged, and Kyle could see a hint of a smirk on his lips. Kyle's heart pounded in his chest, the dark haired boy tilting his head and wearing a smile that indicated he knew something was going on between them. Maybe Kyle was just being paranoid...

"Nothing," Craig said, tapping the tip of his nose with his finger, and Kyle knew he wasn't.

"Craig knows," Kyle said, pulling the window open and sticking a hand out to help Cartman's fat ass climb inside. He fell with a _whump_ on the bed, looking up at Kyle with wide brown eyes. "What the fuck do you mean, Craig knows?"

Kyle rubbed at the back of his neck, kneeling on his bed and watching as Cartman got himself situated. "Uh," he said, lamely and Cartman glared at him as he spoke. "What'd you say to him?"

"I didn't say anything, fat ass! He figured it out. At least, I'm pretty sure he did. Or he knows something is up between us. Maybe not the details or maybe he thinks we've got some stupid little crush or we're just flirting or something. But I just have this feeling he knows, and when I asked him what was up he just said nothing and-" Kyle stopped speaking to tap his nose the way Craig had done earlier in the day. The international signal for someone saying 'I know'. Or 'I agree' depending on the context. But the way it was directed, delivered with a smirk and a knowing glance..? Kyle was fairly certain Craig had been added to the list of knowing something was up between Kyle and Eric.

First Ike, then Heidi and now Craig. Kyle prayed to God that no one would mention anything to Stan. He didn't need Stan more suspicious. He'd grown concerned about Kyle and Eric's good companionship the last few months. Their fighting had died down to playful bickering. And they'd slipped up a few times, smiling at each other too long. Kyle standing beside Eric to link their fingers together for a fleeting moment, or Eric's hand brushing along Kyle's backside in too firm of a motion for it to be accidental. Stan had questioned their good relationship, even gone so far as to warn Cartman to stop flirting with his boyfriend a few times. It was a joke, of course. But Kyle wondered now just how much of it was rooted in truth.

They needed to be more careful. Ideally, they needed to stop. Because Eric was with Heidi, and Kyle was in love with Stan, and they couldn't be together. They shouldn't.

"We need to be more careful," Kyle said when Eric didn't say anything. He just watched Kyle, and Kyle watched him back. They said nothing more, stayed crouched on Kyle's bed as the summer sun quickly set over South Park.

"I love you," Eric whispered, and Kyle's heart beat so hard in his chest that he thought it would burst through his rib cage.

He backed away slightly, shaking his head. "No," Kyle warned, and Eric opened his mouth to start speaking only to have Kyle cut him off. "No, don't you dare. That's not fair and you know it." He could see the hurt cross over Cartman's features, before his face settled in a contorted look of anger.

"Why not, Kyle? It's not like you're happy with Stan." Kyle started to laugh, regretting it but found himself unable to stop all the same. He was perfectly happy with Stan. Kyle was just greedy or something. What could he say? Kyle had no words on this subject. His future was set in stone, and no force on earth, not even Eric Cartman would erode it.

"I'm not... I'm not..." Kyle stuttered, still laughing behind his words. He wasn't meaning to, but this situation took him by surprise and he wasn't mentally equipped to deal with it right now. Cartman was growing angrier, too. Kyle felt bad but... fuck! "How much happier would you be, Kyle? If people knew the truth. If you weren't so trapped. You really want to stay like this? Forever promised to someone you're not in love with? You gonna grow up, get perfect little jobs and a perfect little house after your perfect little Jew wedding? Settle down with perfect kids and go to the same job day in, day out, come home to someone you don't love and lying every day about how faithful you've been?" Eric's voice was like venom, attacking Kyle's nerves and emotions. He could feel his body tense up, throat close like he was going into anaphylactic shock. Or like someone was pressing on it, suffocating and choking him.

"Everyday," Eric spat at him. "Every fucking day, Kyle. You'll go home and kiss your husband and hug your kids and think about how everything you've got is built on lies. And it's gonna eat you alive, because you're going to be trapped. It'll only get worse, the noose around your neck only gets tighter. Every day you lie to Stan, every day you tell yourself, Stan, me, everyone else that you love him, it'll tighten." Kyle could feel the tears stinging his dry eyes, felt like Cartman had his hands wrapped around him like a python, squeezing life out of him. Kyle hated him, because he knew Eric was kind of right.

Kyle just shook his head, hands gripping into the sheets. "No," he hissed, angry that the snake that was Eric Cartman was trying to wrap itself around his life and ruin it. "This is temporary. You and I are temporary. You don't love me. Maybe you think you do, but you just want to own me. Can't stand the idea of me and Stan having a happy future together. You're jealous, want to ruin it." Kyle's fingers let loose the bedsheets, before balling up and smacking Cartman in the chest with them.

"I hate you," the redhead seethed. He hated himself more. Cartman shook his head, angry and hurt and Kyle felt like they were mirroring each other. Why couldn't Cartman just keep his fat fucking mouth shut?! "This is over, for real. Get out. Get out of my room!" Kyle tried to keep his voice to a minimal volume, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he'd help snuck Cartman in through the window. He knew he'd regret what he was saying, would miss Cartman's touch. His closeness. How much energy waste hating him again.

But Stan came first. Kyle owed his boyfriend that much.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**June, 2018**_

"What has gotten into you," Stan breathed out, head tilted back against the wall as he dug his fingers into Kyle's red curls. Not that Kyle could much answer, given his current position. Lips wrapped around his cock, one hand wrapped around the base while the other supported himself by gripping onto Stan's thigh. Instead, he looked up at him with wide, blinking eyes as he pressed his tongue hard against the underside. Kyle shrugged, pulling off with a wet little pop. "Dunno," he said simply, before going back to work. They had limited amount of time, tucked away in the stock room of Jimbo's store. Eventually a customer would show up or Stan's uncle would come back. So Kyle needed to make quick work of this. Pumping his hand in time with his mouth, Kyle hollowed out his cheeks and sucked. Above him, he heard Stan's head hit against the wall again, felt his thigh tremble under his palm. Kyle wasn't half bad at this, between Stan and Cartman both teaching Kyle like he was a virgin or some girl who didn't know what a dick liked.

When Stan did finish, not much longer than five minutes later, Kyle pulled back and tried not to make a face as he swallowed. Easily the worst part. The taste was fine, really. When it was just sitting in his mouth... but the swallowing? The bitterness sat in the back of his throat, uncomfortable and lingering until he could wash it away with food or drink. If Kyle's distaste for it showed, Stan didn't notice anyway. He looked rather spent, slumped against the wall with his pants pooled around his ankles. Kyle reckoned he could use a nap, now. Wiping the saliva from his lips and chin on the back of his hand, Kyle gave Stan's thigh a little slap to bring him out of his post-orgasmic daze.

"Back to work, man," he said as he tucked Stan back into his boxers, and going so far as to pull his jeans back up and attempt to zip and button them. Kyle figured it needed some adjusting, but he wasn't doing all the fucking work here, especially since he wasn't getting anything in return. Not that Kyle had popped over to get a quickie, more to give Stan a bit of a treat.

Above him, Stan hummed, eyes closed and making no effort to move. Kyle just stared up at him, wiping his sweaty and sticky-feeling hands off on his own jeans. He needed to wash them, or the discomfort of the feeling would drive him mad. "Come on, before someone comes looking." Kyle reached up to take Stan's hands in his, using the larger boy as an anchor to help himself up. "Christ, you're useless," he mumbled when Stan offered no help whatsoever. He was lucky Kyle had a lot of making up to do, whether Stan knew it or not.

With Kyle at near eye-height, Stan opened his and looked at him, laziness plastered allover it. Kyle knew his own face was one of exasperation and mild amusement, and Stan must have found it attractive in the very least. He leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses against Kyle's plumped lips. Kyle took it as a little thank you, and the corners turned upwards in a little smile as he pressed back into it. "Love you," Stan mumbled. If Kyle wasn't so close, he wouldn't have heard it. He pressed their foreheads together, red and black hair tangling together as Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle's torso. "Love you too," Kyle murmured back. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt as if he meant it.

Of course he meant it. Kyle felt stupid for doubting it. Quick enough to give Stan a little start, Kyle wrapped his own arms tight around Stan's neck, holding them together tightly. "I love you so fucking much," Kyle said again. It was the closest thing he could get to an apology without admitting what he'd done. The familiar tears of guilt welled up in his eyes, and to hide them Kyle moved to bury his face in the crook of his boyfriends neck. He felt Stan laugh, chests pressed together, and he rubbed at Kyle's back before gently pushing him away.

"You alright?" Stan asked, and Kyle nodded as he rubbed at his face to wipe the emotions away. "Course," Kyle replied, and inhaled deeply to bring him back down to a calmer mindset.

As Stan took Kyle's hand in his and pulled them from the supply closet, Kyle battled with himself. He loved Stan. Why did he doubt it? Why had Cartman doubted it? If he didn't, Kyle wouldn't have had any qualms about leaving him for that fat fuck. What was love if love wasn't sacrifices? Regardless of what Kyle wanted, he'd put Stan first. He'd protect Stan even if it meant slitting Cartman's throat. If he could even get a knife through the amount of chins. Kyle had already decided to dedicate his life to giving Stan the one he deserved, whether or not Kyle was genuinely happy with it or not. That was fucking love. Even if one could argue that if Kyle truly loved him, he wouldn't have let Eric Theodore Cartman fuck him. It was a mistake, and though part of him knew Stan should know, it was best if he didn't. Kyle wasn't going to break him.

The part of him that argued against it could go fuck itself.

"-suddenly decided to turn into a bit of a hoe, but I'm not complaining," Stan was saying, and Kyle shook his head to focus on the now. Kyle looked stupidly at him, blinking. "Huh?" Stan's face lit up, laughing at the clueless look on Kyle's.

"I just said, you've I don't know why you've suddenly decided to turn into a hoe, but I'm not complaining." Stan grinned, and Kyle folded his arms over his chest. "You'd better not, or it'll stop," Kyle replied, eyes rolling. It was true, Kyle figured. He'd 'hoe'd' it up the last week, since he kicked Eric back out his window. They were... apologies, of sorts. Or, as the nagging Cartman voice in his head said, distracting himself by throwing all his energy into upping his and Stan's sex game. Who cared what the ulterior motive was, anyway? So what if he was dragging Stan into dark corners and bushes, interrupting him at work with blowjobs or taking attention off a movie by slipping his hands into the front of Stan's shorts? The law, he supposed. But it wasn't like they'd gotten caught yet anyway.

Okay, so maybe, internally, Kyle was fighting with himself about it all the time now. Regardless of what the motives were, Stan was happy. And if Stan was happy, Kyle was happy. That's all that mattered...

 _ **July, 2018**_

 _Thwhip. Thwhip. Thwhip._

 _"_ Kenny, I swear to god if you don't stop, I'm going to kick your ass," Kyle snapped, reaching behind him to swat at the incoming quarter. He missed, the coin bouncing with a _thwhip_ off his butt. Kyle growled, eyes narrowing into slits, but Kenny was unaffected. He just continued giggling, flicking another quarter to bounce off his ass cheek and fall to the ground.

"Kenny!" He'd probably thrown about five dollars at him now, Cartman trailing behind him to pick up the quarters as they walked to Kenny's new car(truck, rather. Can take the boy from the rednecks but you can't take the redneck from the boy). "It's not my fault you've got an ass that just won't quit, Ky. What's your secret?" Kenny asked, voice full of amusement. Sure enough, another coin hit him in the butt. Kyle stopped walking, bent down and picked it up only to whip it full speed at Kenny. The quarter made a great sound as it bounced off his thick head, leaving behind a bright red mark between his eyes. Stan, who up until that point was holding in his own giggles burst out into laughter, face going red. Kyle punched Stan in the shoulder.

Traitor.

As Kenny recovered, they continued to walk. It was the first time in a few weeks where they'd all had the same day off, a bright and warm Wednesday. So they'd elected to pile into Kenny's stupidly new and stupidly large pick up, and drive two and a half hours to a lake in the mountains for the day. "You know, I was just tying to compliment your bangin' butt, man," Kenny sulked, and sure enough, seconds later a quarter hit him in the middle of his left ass cheek. The laughter started up again, Stan leaning forward and clutching at his abdomen as Kyle's hands clenched at his sides. "So round, so perky. Do you do squats, Kyle?" Kenny continued, pressing the button on his key fob to unlock the doors to the truck.

"Probably from riding dick, we all know he's a power bottom," Cartman chimed in, jingling his handful of quarters before shoving them in his pocket. Kyle looked to Stan for some sort of defense on that, but he just bit into his lip and tried not to grin.

"I am not a power bottom," Kyle said, sending Stan a look that dared him to disagree. Stan shrugged, not saying anything but his face clearly read that he was on Cartman's side. Again with the treason.

"Stan, switch with Cartman!" Kyle yelled, punching Cartman as hard as he could in the shoulder. Stan had called shotgun, as Kyle was climbing into Kenny's truck to claim the front seat for himself. Which lead them to have a bit of a tiff, pushing and pulling at each other over who got the front seat. In the end, Stan had simply picked Kyle up and wrestled him into the back seat, kicking and screaming as Cartman pulled him in from the other side. Kyle thought they were adults, mistakenly, but apparently childish games of Shotgun still trumped above all else. Kyle had kind of hoped someone in the street had thought he was being kidnapped and called the police. But given how long they'd all lived in the small town of South Park, everyone was familiar with them enough to know Kyle was, for all intents and purposes, safe.

But now Kyle hadn't been stuck in the back seat with Cartman poking and prodding at him to piss him off, Kyle smacking at him every time Cartman had gone in for a wet Willy or grabbed his arm for an Indian burn. "I'm going to fucking kill you, stop! Kenny!" Kyle cried out, Cartman leaning over to tickle under his arm pit and sides. Between his yelling he couldn't hold back the involuntary giggles. "I'm not switching, Shotgun Law clearly states this is my rightful seat for this leg of the drive, Kyle," Stan said, turned in his seat to witness Kyle's torture with a smirk in his face.

Traitor.

By the time they'd gotten to the lake, Kyle was fuming. Everyone else seemed thoroughly amused by his rage, which made it even worse. There was nothing Kyle hated more than being a joke. The moment the truck was turned off, Kyle was out and waiting by the passenger door for Stan to hop out. And when Stan did, Kyle kicked his leg out to trip him. It was what he deserved, Kyle figured. Shit Boyfriend Punishment. After everything Kyle had done for him recently, too. Stan was getting cocky, apparently. So Kyle didn't feel too bad when Stan went face first into the dirt and pine needles. "You should watch where you're going, sweetheart," Kyle said, voice dripping with a metaphorical sugary sweetness. But it was laced with venom, shown by the nasty glare he sent down at Stan.

Stan groaned, pushing himself up and off the ground, using Kyle's pant legs to help. Kyle wanted to push him back down, but perhaps that would be too mean. Instead, he just grabbed Stan's shoulder and helped to bring him back to his feet. "You're an ass, Kyle," Stan said, face looking sulky, and Kyle scoffed before replying. "You guys have been ripping on me the entire ride, you deserve it. Everyone will get their comeuppance. Just be grateful yours was a trip." To apologize for it, even though he didn't really mean it, Kyle stood up on his toes and placed a soft kiss against Stan's stubbly cheek.

Stan seemed to accept it, snaking an arm around Kyle's waist and holding him against his side. "You're one bad day from being a serial killer, babe," Stan joked, leaning down to nuzzle into Kyle's messy, red hair. He wasn't half wrong. There were days when Kyle wanted to kill all of them and probably wouldn't feel all to bad about it. Kenny especially, but Kenny came back. He always came back. Cartman, however...? Kyle wouldn't regret burying him six feet under after throwing that stupid 'I love you' at him a few weeks ago.

Yeah, he was still mad about it.

Eric fucking Cartman got them lost. And by them, Kyle meant; he and Cartman. It had started by Kyle volunteering to go get wood to start a little fire. Cartman had tagged along, despite Kyle's protesting. He knew it was some stupid plot to corner Kyle, do something stupid like talk or fight without the worry of Stan and Kenny overhearing. And sure enough, they had done both. They'd talked; or rather, Kyle kept deflecting and Cartman just got more annoyed. They'd fought; Kyle wasn't wanting to talk. And then they'd gotten distracted and wandered too far off.

"I hate you so fucking much," Kyle spat, kicking at the fallen debris of pine needles and twigs, sending a spray of it in Cartman's direction. "If you'd only just shut up for one god damned minute, we wouldn't be off the trail."

Cartman held his hands up to deflect some of the dirt and shit Kyle kicked at him, narrowing his eyes. "If you didn't stomp off like a fucking baby, we wouldn't be off the fucking path you stupid Jew! Maybe if you just listened when people actually fucking talked to you, instead of metaphorically shoving your greedy little fingers in your ears, we wouldn't be _off the fucking path!_ " Cartman yelled back, and Kyle knew it wasn't just about getting lost. Of course not, because god forbid Eric Cartman ever say anything that didn't have the intent to somehow manipulate people into feeling or acting a certain way. There was always meaning, always motive behind his fucking words.

"I don't listen to you because you're so full of shit it's why your eyes are brown, you fat fuck!" Kyle screamed, stepping closer to get in the other boys face. He'd kick his god damned ass if he had too, anything to relieve the frustration. "I don't listen to _you_ because the bullshit you spew is never fucking genuine, and is always some fucking plot to get your way! Now shut up and help me find the fucking trail." Kyle stood, back straight and tall as possible. Cartman was bigger than him (hell, who wasn't these days?) and in order for the fatass to back down, Kyle needed to appear as threatening as possible. Even if Kyle had successfully kicked Eric's ass in every fight they'd ever been in, Cartman never seemed to remember that. He must have today, however. Perhaps Kyle punching him repeatedly in the shoulder on the ride up every time he pissed the fiery redhead off was enough of a beating today. So Eric conceded, stepping back and turning around.

"There's only so far we could have gone," Cartman said after a few moments, starting to retrace what was hopefully their steps. "If we just get back to the lake we can follow it and come across Stan and Kenny eventually." Kyle wanted to point out that that wouldn't be the case if they were going the wrong way, but then again they'd only been walking for like, an hour. If they didn't come across them in around that time, then they could just turn around and go the other way. "Whatever, less talking more walking. You could use it," Kyle grumbled, turning his eyes down to focus on picking at his cuticles. What he should have been focusing on was the ground, because he'd have seen Eric kick his foot out to try and trip him. Kyle stumbled forward, but managed to regain his balance before he fell.

"Don't call me fat," Eric snapped, and Kyle gave a swift kick to his shin before responding.

"Then fuck off with the Jew jokes, dickwad."

For or a long while they walked, staying silent after that. Kyle guessed it was about twenty minutes or so until they stumbled upon the shoreline of the lake, a welcome sight. There wasn't an argument on which way to turn from there, opting to head East as they were fairly certain they'd gone westward earlier. It wasn't until they'd settled in their direction, Kyle carrying his shoes and walking barefooted along the smooth and rocky edge of the lake, that either of them really said anything.

"What's your problem with the whole love thing, anyway?" Cartman asked, and Kyle groaned, watching as a small minnows darted away from his legs. He really, really wanted to avoid this conversation but if Cartman was going to keep bringing it up, then fine. "Because it's bullshit, dude," Kyle said, rolling his eyes. He could hear the offended grunt from beside him, and Kyle turned his head from the water to look at his current companion. "It is, you know it."

He had to.

Cartman just looked pissy about it, though. "No, it's not. You're just hearing what you want to hear. That, and I think you think you're obligated to stay with your hipster douchebag. You know you're not, right?" He said, and Kyle folded his hands over his chest after throwing his running shoes across his shoulders, tied by the laces. Yes, of course he knew that! Pursing his lips, Kyle didn't respond immediately and Eric took it as an opportunity to continue.

"You wanna know what I think, Kyle?" Eric asked, and Kyle's answer was simple.

"No."

Cartman didn't listen, and Kyle hadn't expected him to anyway. "I think you're confusing loving Stan with being in love with Stan. I mean, everyone knows you love him. It's gross. Watching you two are sickening sometimes. But it isn't being in love. It's love, but it's not like how I feel about you." Kyle couldn't help but snort, before getting in a little jab. "Maybe that's because you don't know what love is."

He didn't seem to take offense to it, however. Instead, Cartman chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, I've been in love with you for a long time, Jewboy. I think I've got a decent grasp on it. It's not like I wanted to, I just do." Kyle stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he was supposed to be flattered or not. He was being both insulted, yet told that Cartman loved him. No wonder Kyle was confused all the fucking time.

"You chose to love Stan, which is cool. It's like choosing your family, your friends are the family you chose or some shit. But you can't help who you fall in love with, and be honest, Kyle, you chose to be with Stan because he's the best option. The ideal mate. Strong, attractive, has a clear future and goal path. If you were a chick, you'd have picked him to give you the strongest, most attractive Jew babies. I mean, why not, right? Who wouldn't pick a future with a good looking dude, a future with a stable income and happy family? Fucking perfect, right? But you didn't decide to go for Stan because you're in love with him. You love the idea of what you and he are."

Kyle picked up the pace a little, trying to make this trip back to Kenny's truck quicker to end this conversation. "You're wrong, dude. I love Stan, okay? I don't know what to tell you, I'm not in love with you. I'm not leaving him for you." Kyle said, surprised at how unargumentative he sounded. It was just... fact. And he was tired of fighting, now. But Eric wasn't keen on ending this, apparently. Kyle sighed as he felt his hand wrap around his wrist, stopping Kyle from going further before yanking on it to turn him around.

"I'm not asking you to," Cartman said, face looking soft as he loosened his grip on Kyle's wrist. His hand slid down a few inches, and settled into a hand hold. Kyle didn't immediately wrench his hand away. Instead he found it... nice. He stood, waiting for Cartman to elaborate more, because there was clearly a proposition coming. "Go on, then," Kyle said after Eric hadn't said anything for a few moments.

"Lets be each other's side bitches," Eric said, voice flat. It was so absurd to hear those words said with such seriousness that Kyle couldn't help but start laughing. "You're such a romantic, Eric, wow. Take me now!" But Eric wasn't kidding, judging by the squeeze of his hand and no trace of amusement on Eric's face. Kyle bit into the inside of his lip, Cartman stepping a step closer. "I'm being serious. You can have the best of both worlds. Have your cake and eat it too. Me and Stan."

Kyle opened his mouth to protest. Say there was no way he was sleeping with Eric again. That there wasn't any possible way that would ever work. They couldn't make it work. But... they only had a few more weeks until they left for college. And they'd pulled it off pretty much successfully for almost a year, really. The fact that Kyle was contemplating his made him feel horrible inside, a real sack of shit. Eric had a point, in that maybe Kyle did chose Stan for convenience.

That was too harsh. Stan wasn't convenient. He was worth more than that. Cartman was right when he said ideal. _Ideal._ Stan was _ideal._ And he was, everything Cartman said he was and more than that. Kyle was lucky to have him. But the longer he thought about loving versus being in love with, he couldn't help but think maybe Eric had merit there. He wasn't in love with Cartman, but Kyle was beginning to doubt if he was in love with Stan. It wasn't like he'd really had any experience with anyone else besides Eric or Stan in the first place.

"You're making Stan happy," Eric whispered. "And what he won't know won't hurt him, and you know you feel something for me or we wouldn't be in this problem in the first place. So what's the harm? If he's none the wiser, and you're happier, what's to fucking lose?"

Everything. But Kyle didn't think of that now, figuring he was smart enough to make it work. Smart enough to work his away around any games Cartman's might be playing with him. Maybe Cartman was just promising things Kyle wanted to hear. Say that Kyle could make Stan happy, and be happy himself with Cartman at the same time, just to eventually swoop in when he had Kyle right where he wanted him and steal him away with Stan and not caring of the aftermath of it.

But Kyle, he wasn't going to think of that now. Not with Eric's hand wrapped in his own, the larger boy stepping closer and using his free hand to cup Kyle's cheek. "I love you, alright?" Eric spoke softly. "So if that means coming second place to Stan, then fine. But I don't want to give this up, it fucking sucks. I miss you."

Kyle swallowed, nodding his head lightly before tilting up onto his toes to press a small kiss against Eric's lips. He considered it a slight victory, though in the back of his head, he was already compiling a new list of why this shouldn't happen. Why he shouldn't listen and fall for what was surely a manipulation tactic. He could deal with that later.

"Where the fuck have you two been?" Kenny asked, standing up the moment he saw Kyle and Eric walk up the shore and to the truck. They had walked most of the way hand in hand, not really talking. Kyle spent it thinking, and wondering what was going on in Eric's head. They had dropped their hands when they first saw the truck, and Kyle's signature pissy face was plastered on again.

"Fatass got us lost," Kyle explained, sitting down on a cooler with a huff. Kenny tossed him a bottle of water that he was grateful for, the sun growing hot in the afternoon. Stan sat down beside him, looking up at Cartman. "Really?" Kyle could hear the amusement in Stan's voice.

"No, Kyle got sand in his vagina and stormed off and got us off the trail," Eric countered. Kyle watched as he grabbed a bag of chips and ripped it open. Kyle would have argued, if that honestly wasn't the case. But he thought more of how they'd gotten lost in the first place, and even though Eric was the reason Kyle stomped away, he was the one who ran off the trail in the first place.

Which meant his silence was an admission of guilt, so Kyle looked away, innocently chugging his bottle of water as if it was no big deal.


	12. Chapter Twelve

_**September, 2018**_

 _"-You call me, 'I love you'. Ooo-oo-oo-oo-o. We called it off again last night. But ooo-oo-oo-o, this time, I'm telling you, I'm telling you;_

 _We are never, ever, ever, getting back to-"_

The music stopped abruptly, Kyle's hand shooting out from under the duvet to smack at all the buttons on the top of the clock radio, cutting off what was probably the most irritating faux country voice. Thank fuck. What a way to wake up, to Taylor Swift. Kyle poked his head out from under the pillows of his bed, a glorious queen sized thing he was in love with and never wanted to leave. The clock's display read 7:00, just as he had figured it would. Part of him wanted to roll back into the middle of the mattress, wrap the fluffy feathered duvet around himself and sleep until noon. The window was open, letting the sounds of early morning and light autumnal rain ring through. A nice, cooler change from the hot California air. He could feel the dampness, sinking under his skin, making Kyle seriously consider skipping his 9:00am class.

But, the world wouldn't stop for Kyle's lethargy, and so he dragged himself from bed. His legs wobbled on the hardwood, protesting their use after what was probably four hours of rest. As he stumbled out of his room, he nearly walked into Stan, on his way to the bathroom. Kyle didn't hold back the yawn as his boyfriend leaned down to press a morning kiss to his lips. "Morning," Stan said and Kyle grumbled under his breath in protest of the word. It was an evil thing, especially after the week of late nights. "Morning," Kyle replied after a few seconds, slumping forward to rest against Stan's chest. He could take a little zizz right here, if he closed his eyes. But he could feel Stan chuckling, and then was pushed away. "I'm going to shower, wanna join?" he asked, and Kyle considered it for a moment. He'd need one, because the unfortunate reality of him growing out his curly hair was the looser curls got tangled like a bitch when he slept. Or moved. Or just... existed. They had a mind of their own, and the only way to tame them was to run a comb through them while wet.

"Sure," Kyle agreed with a nod. "Might wake me up, fuck," he continued as he rubbed at his face, Stan wrapping an arm around his waist to lead them both to the bathroom one door down, and across the hall from Kenny's room. The bathroom was stupidly large, as were most of the rooms in the house. The thing was new, Kyle, Kenny, Stan and Cartman all being the first ones to live in it. Though there were only three official bedrooms, Cartman had demanding dibs on the finished basement under the idea of giving more money to Kenny for rent. Not that it was working out that way, Kenny had complained. Kyle would be surprised if Cartman was going to cough up a cent, the greedy bastard. It worked out alright, Kyle supposed, since because Cartman hadn't paid, when Kyle tried to hand the envelope of cash for his share of the rent, Kenny pushed it back saying it wasn't fair.

The guy had more money than sense, buying a house just outside of LA. YouTuber or not, it was a bit on the stupid side. But it gave Kyle and Stan a place to stay while they studied. Who knew what Cartman was doing, though. Kenny at least doing something with his life, strings of Internet personalities over, filming something. Or going to parties and events, or generally recording everything and everyone.

"What are your classes today?" Kyle asked as he shimmied out of his boxers, watching as Stan leaned on the shower to turn the water on. Stan pulled out of the shower to slip off his tee shirt and pyjama pants and spoke. "I've got Stats, Chemistry and... something else, I dunno. I gotta look at my phone." Kyle nodded, wondering just how Stan hadn't memorized his entire semesters worth of classes already. Kyle could recite his schedule in his sleep.

Hopping into the shower, Kyle held the glass door open for Stan to join him. The thing was huge, as was everything in the house. The four of them could shower together, if they wanted. The strange part was they had, the first week they'd moved in. The first Monday, Kyle had been showering only to be interrupted by Kenny just... letting himself in. Stan followed shortly, not wanting to be left out or something. Eric had yelled through the door for them to hurry up, he had places to be before Kenny had just yelled back to get his fat ass in and join them.

Kyle had to wonder just what anyone else would think of them, looking in at their little group. No wonder Craig had always given them shit for weirdness and drama following them wherever they went.

"So, guess what?" Stan said, hogging most of the hot water, leaving Kyle to stand shivering and getting the light spray bouncing off his body. Kyle moved forward, pressing himself against Stan's chest to get some of the water for himself. "What?" He asked as he reached around to grab the shampoo from the corner shelf.

"Wendy called me in tears last night," Stan said, reaching between them to take the shampoo bottle from Kyle's hands. He was about to protest when Stan brought it up to squirt a dollop onto his soggy hair. "You know how she went to Harvard with Gregory, yeah?" He said, fingers diving in to Kyle's curls to massage the suds into his roots. Kyle nodded, eyes closing. He knew that very well. He spent the final week at home miserable about it, as his letter was a rejection. Not that Kyle had intended to go, but he had applied just to see if he could get in. His initial school was Stanford, only changing because UCLA kept him close to Stan and Kenny, and Eric... "Yeah," Kyle hummed, enjoying the scalp massage he was getting.

It ended too soon, but was quickly replaced by Stan hosing the suds out from the shower head he removed from the wall. "Well, last night she went over to his dorm, let herself in, right. And she opens his door and there's Christophe naked in his lap!" Stan sounded absolutely scandalized, and Kyle couldn't blame him. He could hear he anger in his voice, as well. Furious that someone dare hurt who was probably Stan's closest confidant aside from Kyle. Even Kenny wasn't the one Stan went to for a heart to heart chat. Mostly because he was Kyle's. And because Wendy was an easy person to talk to, empathetic and could understand people. Perhaps it was why she was studying psychology...

"Fuck," Kyle said when the water had stopped streaming onto his head, Stan replacing the head back on the wall so as to begin washing his own hair. "That fucking sucks... How is she?" he asked, and Stan frowned, eyes closed the water trickled down his face. "Pretty upset, I'm surprised she hasn't killed them both. Pretty messed up, they're related." Stan said, and Kyle reached around him again to take the bottle of conditioner. "They're not really," Kyle commented, grimacing nonetheless at the thought. "They're step brothers. Still gross, but at least they're not Game of Thronesing."

Stan shrugged, head cocking in agreement. "I just feel bad, man. She's across the country, by herself. She's a strong girl, but to be cheated on by your boyfriend. She really liked him, Kyle... Wendy doesn't give her heart one easily, and he fucking..! He fucking betrayed her, dude. Said he loved her, wanted to get married and shit. And was fucking his step brother behind her back!" As Stan spoke, getting out his frustrations, his voice grew angrier and angrier. And Kyle grew guiltier and guiltier.

How Kyle was infinitely worse than Gregory in every way, how he was betraying not a friend but the one he did love. Kyle bit into his lip as he conditioned his hair, thinking of the quick hidden kisses he shared with Cartman when they passed in the hall or met in the kitchen. Or Eric looping a finger in the belt of Kyle's jeans when they stood next to each other, his hand in Stan's on the other side. Cartman even going so far as to cup Kyle's ass in his hand as he passed Stan and Kyle kissing each other goodbye in the foyer of the house.

"I'll give her a call," Kyle said as he gently shoved Stan aside to stand under the stream, rinsing the conditioner from his curls, grabbing at the comb on the corner ledge to comb the tangles out as he did so. He tried to keep his voice even, not crack and give any of his own insecurities away. "Send her my love, she deserves better than that English asshole and his creepy French brother." Kyle didn't think too kindly of either of them, obviously. He was still irritated at Christophe's advances last year. Stan nodded, angrily soaping himself up with the Irish Spring that filled the shower with its minty scent. "She'd like that. I think she'd appreciate anyone giving her some support right now."

"I still don't get why you don't share a room," Kenny commented when Stan and Kyle entered the kitchen hand in hand after their shower. "You shower together, sleep together, do pretty much everything together. Why not share a bed?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, making a beeline to the Keurig and popping a pod in for himself. Kenny preferred the stupid espresso machine, but Kyle had enough of that shit working at a coffee shop over the summer. "Kyle likes his bed to himself," Stan said, grabbing one of his weird mason jar smoothie blends with the almond milk. Kyle had watched him repeatedly try to figure out a way to make the blender not leak when he did it, but his hipster boyfriend needed to do things the Pinterest way.

When his coffee finished brewing, Kyle turned and leaned against the counter, cupping the mug between his hands as he and Kenny, once again, watched Stan struggle to screw the blender on the mason jar upside down. Maybe this time he'd get the threading right. "Because you snore, you move around, and you hog the blankets," Kyle countered, blowing onto the surface of his coffee.

Stan snorted. "I think your projecting, babe. That's you. You're a hog and thief and a kicker. But I would put up with that for you," he pouted, mockingly.

"Oh shut up, you get me on weekends and Tuesdays and Thursdays," Kyle joked. Mostly because those days were days Kyle and Stan both had later classes, or none at all in the case of the weekend. Plus... Kyle didn't feel too right having Stan in his bed. The few times he and Eric were home alone were spent there, and it... it wasn't proper. Whether or not because it was a place Kyle only wanted to share with Cartman, or because he didn't want to feel the shame of sleeping with Stan in a bed he slept with Cartman in... well... Kyle didn't know. Probably both.

Stan flipped the blender back over, and everything looked to be going smoothly as nothing began to immediately leak out. But the true test was when Stan pushed down on the pulse button...

Kenny threw his arms up, whooping as nothing oozed out, the blender happily crushing the mixture of fruits and leafy greens and almond milk. Stan stood, looking proud as it all mixed into a shade of puce. Kyle couldn't helped but lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. "Congratulations, you didn't fuck it up!" Kyle laughed, and Stan removed his hand from the button to flip the blender back over and unscrew it from the jar.

"Yeah, now you can officially get your hipster douchebag card," Cartman called from the doorway, smacking Kenny on the shoulder as he passed by on his way to the fridge. "Who the fuck drinks smoothies from mason jars in class?" Stan shrugged, happy to be successful for once, sticking a straw in his smoothie. He sucked happily, humming a little tune before speaking. "Say what you want, man. Nothing can ruin my day now!"

Cartman shut the door of the fridge, eyebrow quirking as he looked at Stan. Kyle could see him accepting that challenge, see the gears turning as he thought of a way to ruin this moment. The smirk was slow building, but eventually encompassed most of his face as he stepped beside Stan. "Really?" He asked, before grabbing a dish cloth and using it to grab the blades of the blender. With a pop, Kyle, Stan and Kenny all turned their focus to it. And sure enough, Cartman had removed the blades from the appliance, nestled in a little round encasing of plastic that allowed one to remove it.

For washing, Kyle realized stupidly. For fucking washing. Both he and Stan groaned, Kenny laughing as the three of the realized how stupid they all were for not realizing it when they bought the fucking thing. Eric stared at all of them, seemingly astonished. "You're all fucking idiots. How did you think this shit worked?!"

It didn't dampen Stan's mood for long though, which Kyle was pleased to see. He chuckled after a while, no doubt regretting tossing the instructions before using it. "Ah well, I still have a smoothie," he shrugged, grinning around his straw. "Wanna give me a lift, Ken? I have an eight thirty class."

"Yeah, sure," Kenny said, grabbing his car keys from the bowl. "You need a ride Kyle?"

Kyle shook his head, taking a look at the clock on the microwave. "Nah, thanks. I gotta get ready still." He wasn't even dressed yet, only slipping back into his boxers when he'd gotten out of the shower. Kenny shrugged, and Stan pulled his mouth away from his smoothie to lean down and give his boyfriend a soft, lingering kiss on the mouth. "I've got football," he mumbled. "I'll be back later."

With a smile, Kyle nodded. "Alright. Text me later, I might hang around or something and watch." Or go to the library and keep up with his assignments that were already stating to pile up. Well, not necessarily piling up. Most weren't due until the end of the semester but Kyle wanted to work now while the load was still light and be able to focus most of his energy later on exams.

On their way out the kitchen, Kenny gave a chaste and quick kiss to Kyle, right on the lips. Kyle rolled his eyes, watching as Stan reached out to grab him my the shirt and yank him to the front door to leave.

Once the door slammed behind the two of them, Eric stepped closer to Kyle. "Morning, Jew."

"Morning, lardass," Kyle countered, Eric moving to wedge himself between Kyle's legs and took the cup of coffee from his hands. He placed it on the counter, the ceramic making a musical little _tink_ as it hit the marble top.

"Lardass? Haven't heard that one in a while," Cartman mumbled, leaning down to silence any reply by granting Kyle with another kiss. Three guys in under two minutes. Kyle snorted against his lips at the thought of being passed around like a joint in a drum circle.

"What?" He asked, the sound vibrating through Kyle's lips. Kyle shook his head just slightly. Eric's arms wrapped around Kyle, hands going to his ass before his fingers dug in. Kyle pulled away, ready to protest when Eric hoisted him up on to the counter, spreading his knees apart further to get closer between them.

What was it with Eric and doing shit in the kitchen?

"You should skip," he continued, muttering the words into Kyle's skin as he kissed his way down Kyle's throat. Kyle shook his head as he tilted it back, allowing Eric more access to nip and mouth at his neck. "Can't," Kyle hummed in response, eyes fluttering closed. Though Eric's fingers fluttering along his bare sides, sending the most pleasant of shivers through Kyle's body, did a good job of making him consider his suggestion.

"Stop," Kyle said, clearly not meaning it as he couldn't help but let out a giggle as Eric's fingers tickled at his skin. "I can't skip, it's sociology first thing." He smacked lightly at Eric's shoulders, not really trying to put effort into pushing him away. Kyle felt the larger man's teeth graze his skin.

"Sociology is gay," Cartman said.

Kyle rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond to that with anything. Instead he closed his eyes and brought his hands up to thread fingers through Eric's soft hair. He was just about to relax, give in to Eric's suggestion of skipping class when they both heard the front door open again and sound of boots jogging on the hardwood.

In their direction.

Kyle had just shoved Eric away as hard as possible when Kenny skidded into the kitchen, face flushed from his little run. "I grabbed the wrong ke-" he stopped talkin, eyes narrowing as he took in everything. Eric looking pissy, lips glossy from their kissing. Kyle, sitting on the counter with a full body flush.

Kyle tried to keep his face neutral as possible, and Kenny spoke. "Are you two alright..?" He asked, looking between them. Kyle nodded, sending a glare towards Cartman.

"Yeah, he's just being a dick. The usual." Kyle hoped Kenny didn't hear the lie in his voice. Eric recovered as well as he always did, acting and lying always being stupidly easy for him. He just looked upset, as if they had been bickering. Though Kyle wondered if most of his pissed of look came from Kyle pretty much punching him away.

"Oh...Kay." Kenny said slowly, replacing the keys in the bowl to grab one of the other sets. He was making a face, staring at Kyle in a way that made him very uncomfortable. "You, uh... you've got something here, Ky," he continued, gesturing to his own neck. Kyle's hand shot up, wiping Eric's spit from his skin in a panic.

"I'm gonna go get dressed," Kyle said quickly, hopping off the counter. Kenny gave him a nod, and bid them both a suspicious sounding 'adieu' as he headed back towards the door. When both he and Eric heard the door slam again, Kyle's shoulders felt like they were both tensing and relaxing at the same time.

"Fuck," he cried, putting his head in his hands. With any luck, Kenny wouldn't think too much of it.

" _Fuck_."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_**Mid October, 2018**_

It was just after one in the morning and Kyle was rooting around in the fridge, trying to decide on whether or not he wanted to make something to eat or just stand herestaring into the white interior for the rest of the night. He was hungry, but he wasn't sure what for and it wasn't so severe that he would eat anything. There was last nights Chinese leftovers, Stan's meal prep containers that no one else touched, a bunch of beer... Realistically, there was an abundance of food in the house. Stan and Eric did the groceries, because otherwise someone would complain. With the exception of Kenny, who was just happy to eat whatever was in the cupboards. If Eric went alone, he came home with junk food. If Stan went alone, he came home with nothing but spinach and tofu. Neither of which resonated with Kyle's diet that needed to be both kosher and help him manage his pesky glucose levels.

So Kyle stared, for what felt like an eternity. Eventually the frustration of standing there caused him to just give in and grab an apple out of the bottom drawers. Kyle bit into it, holding it between his teeth as he shut the door.

"Hello, Kyle," a gruff voice rang through and Kyle jumped about a foot in the air, the apple falling out of his mouth and onto the floor as he yelped in surprise.

"Fuck, Kenny! You scared the shit out of me," Kyle snapped, bending down to pick up the apple and turned to rinse it under the sink. "What's with the Mysterion voice?" Kyle felt his heart pound in his chest from the shock, and he looked over to see Kenny leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he stared down Kyle. The look was intense, both because Kenny seemed to mean it that way and the dark lighting(or lack there of) of the witching hour.

"What's going on with you and Cartman?" Kenny asked, voice still rough. Kyle wanted to tell him they weren't kids. The vigilante voice wasn't intimidating to him, not anymore. But that'd be almost a lie, because Kyle was feeling very much intimidated.

"Nothing," Kyle lied. But maybe that gave away too much. Was too suspicious, since normal Kyle wouldn't have an issue with going off on what exactly was going on in their rocky friendship. "Except his usual asshole self, really. Why?"

Kenny didn't look convinced, and Kyle couldn't handle his stare. So he turned around, grabbing one of the kcups off the rotating tree and stuck it in the machine. Anything to occupy himself. He took too long deciding on a mug, opting finally for the one Eric had picked up for him when they'd first moved. 'Some say I'm condescending. That means I talk down to people,' it said in Helvetica font. He'd gotten a good laugh out of it, and Kyle found himself drinking out of it more often than the others.

"Listen man," Kenny spoke slowly, and Kyle inhaled deeply. He hoped Kenny couldn't see it in the dark, with his back turned. He had this feeling of being in trouble. "I don't know what's going on, and I don't want to make any assumptions. But Stan... All of you guys... you're my best friends. And I love you. I don't want anything to come between us, ever. We're family." Kenny said, his fond of voice changing to something sad, and Kyle felt that irritating guilt rise like acid reflux in his throat.

Closing his eyes, Kyle took another deep breath before turning and facing Kenny. Not that he could see all to well. The light of the city and the sky gave a strange glow to the kitchen, and to Kenny. "I love you too, man. Nothing's gonna tear us apart, I promise." Kyle insisted, meeting Kenny's stare through the dark. Kenny didn't seem to look to convinced. They stayed silent for a few long moments, Kyle bringing the cup of coffee to his lips to sip. Bitter and too hot, but it was a distraction and something to do while he waited for Kenny to decide whether or not to press further.

After a few minutes, Kenny spoke again. "Just... Be careful, then. You know how Stan is when he's hurting..." Kyle nodded, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. He winces as it burned going down, causing an uncomfortable heat straight to his stomach. "I know," Kyle replied, nodding.

"He loves you. More than anything," Kenny continued, pressing. Kyle knew what he was doing, trying to sway Kyle away from whatever lines Kenny thought he was walking or had already crossed. Trying to pull him back from the proverbial edge knowing full well that Kyle's actions not only effected Stan, but everyone in their lives; himself included.

"I know," Kyle said again.

"Where is he, anyway?" the blonde asked, looking around the kitchen as if Stan would miraculously appear at Kyle's side. Kyle shrugged, nonchalant, watching as Kenny stepped closer.

"He's at a frat party, with the football team apparently." Stan had sort of asked permission to go, which Kyle had gotten a little laugh at before telling Stan to go for it. Kyle had wanted to work, lock himself away in his bedroom and avoid everything and everyone after Kenny had walked in on him and Eric this morning. It was a small miracle in itself that Cartman hadn't bothered him, though part of Kyle had wished he had. It was someone to talk to about this, because the only person who officially knew and who Kyle trusted wholeheartedly was Ike. Who was still in Colorado, and surely happy to be the only child for a while.

Pushing away from the counter, Kyle went over and wrapped an arm around Kenny's torso. "Love you, man. Thanks for everything," Kyle said. It may be a deflection, but Kyle did mean it. Thanks for letting them live here. Thanks for always putting everyone else before himself. Thanks for just... being Kyle's best friend, really. Ever since Stan and he got together, the title went to Kenny. "Wanna both sleep in Stan's room?" He asked, and he could sense Kenny cheering up at the offer.

"Duh," he said simply, happy to take the lead and all but push Kyle up the stairs with a hand on the small of his back. Kyle slightly regretted the offer, knowing full well Kenny was the worst cuddler he'd ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. But if it kept him happy, and kept him from nosing into Kyle's business, it was a small price to pay.

"Kenny doesn't know shit, Kyle. You're paranoid, relax," Eric said, lounging on his bed down in the basement. Kyle hadn't actually been down here since they all helped bring his shit down when they'd first moved in. He'd done a lot with it in the month and a half they'd been settled in. He'd painted the walls blue, tacked up some posters and strung lights through the rafters of the unfinished ceiling. There was a large chair in one of the corners, a lamp behind it. Maybe intended to be used to read, but more used to hold Cartman's basket of laundry. His desk and surface of his chest of drawers was covered in junk and trinkets, the garbage can beside the desk overflowing with snack wrappers and crumpled papers that seemed to have a mix of doodles, drawings and words on them. For as messy as parts of the room was, Kyle was genuinely surprised the floor was clean and he was able to walk over and flop down on the bed beside Eric.

"He's been watching me so intently," Kyle moaned, burying his head in Eric's pillow and inhaling the scent of it. Mostly it smelled like cheesy-poofs, because Kyle was fairly certain Eric had just wiped his fingers on the pillow case given he was eating them now. Kinda gross, but Kyle was too lazy to move his head of it. He heard Eric scoff beside him before he spoke with his mouthful. "Who cares? He can't prove anything." Kyle sighed and turned his head to look at Eric, before wiggling closer on the bed until he was nestled against his side. Eric seemed to be pleased by Kyle's initiation of affection, and tucked his arm around Kyle's shoulders whilst Kyle rested his head on Eric's chest. Kosher or not, Kyle didn't care, as he slipping a hand in the bag of cheese snacks on Cartman's stomach and shoved one in his mouth.

"I just... he was so sullen the other day when he confronted me about it. Is it bad that I almost feel more guilty lying to him than I do Stan?" Kyle asked, body relaxing as he settled comfortably against Eric. Neither Stan nor Kenny were home currently, and it allowed Kyle some time to relax with his... mistress? That sounded horrible in his head.

Eric laughed, though, locking his phone screen and muting the YouTube video he was watching. "Yeah, dude. That's pretty shitty. But I get it. He's a neutral party. Somewhere in your little conniving head you can justify what we're doing against Stan. You can't against Kenny, aside from the fact that it's none of poor boys fucking business what we do."

Kyle cocked a brown, nuzzling his forehead and nose against Eric's chest as he stifled a small chuckle. "He's not poor anymore. Kenny told me how much he got just doing a sponsored video for Audible." Plus he got a platinum subscription for free, which he'd let Kyle use considering Audiobooks weren't really Kenny's thing. The only catch was Kyle had to write down what to say about what book Kenny was supposedly listening to.

"And," Kyle pointed out, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Eric's face. "You live in his house. Rent free. Pretty sure that gives him some right to stick his nose into our business. When are you going to pay him, anyway?" Kyle had only just convinced him to take his share of the rent for October, Kenny once again trying to shove it back saying it wasn't fair that Kyle and Stan were paying when the fat ass down in the basement wasn't paying his share.

Eric didn't seem to want to reply to that statement, meaning Kyle was right. It wasn't until several moments later that Eric spoke, voice slow and his face showing he was calculating something. "I have an idea," he said simply, and Kyle flopped back onto the mattress with a groan.

That was never a good idea.

 ** _October 22nd, 2018_**

The morning of Stan's birthday was a rough one. Kyle could already tell. As he woke up to the sounds of the street, the sun shining through Stan's sheer curtains, Kyle could feel his head aching and his mouth parched. Kyle tucked his head into the crook of Stan's arm pit, letting out a small whimper. There was nothing more he wanted than to go back and sleep it off. But he could already tell that wasn't happening, not until he had some water in him or maybe even some food. With a groan, Kyle reluctantly pulled himself from Stan's bed, rubbing at his eyes as he looked down at his sleeping boyfriend. Drooling on the pillow. Kyle couldn't help a smile, reaching down to pat Stan's stubbly cheek before creeping out of the room quietly so as to not disturb him. In the hall, he could hear someone in the bathroom. Kenny, no doubt. Or perhaps whoever Kenny had dragged into bed with him. Kyle wasn't able to tell, and he wasn't going to stick around find out.

He stumbled down the stairs, clinging to the rail as he padded down the stairs in bare feet, the hardwood cold and soothing. Once downstairs, he could see a few people scattered in the living room, asleep on the floor or sprawled across the couch and stairs. Kyle didn't really know any of them. Some from Stan's football team or classes, others part of Kenny's little self proclaimed Collaboration Crew. Kyle shook his head, regretting the movements instantly as his brain threw itself against his skull like a toddler having a tantrum, and moved to the kitchen. Blissfully empty. Beneath him, Kyle could hear the dull sound of music traveling through the floorboards from Eric's room. So he was awake then.

Kyle grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, cracking it open and chugging back the contents as quickly as he was able to given the precarious state of his stomach. He almost felt instantly better, as if the water was going straight to his head. Standing in the kitchen for several moments, Kyle drank his water. He finished one bottle, and turned to the sink to refill it. Through the floor, Frank Sinatra crooned, and Kyle decided to go down and speak to Cartman. It felt like it had been a while since they last had one on one time, even though it was a few days ago. Kyle felt clingy. But he also felt like he was going to throw up, and Stan was probably going to sleep his hangover off until the afternoon. With any luck, Kyle could convince Cartman to rub his back until he fell back asleep for a couple hours.

Easing his way down the stairs, Kyle didn't bother knocking on the door. Eric rarely offered him the same courtesy. And it wasn't like Kyle hadn't seen him in compromising positions before. Hell, the asshole walked in on him all the time when Kyle was in the bathroom.

Except, when Kyle opened the door, he got an eyeful something he felt like he absolutely wasn't supposed to see.

He'd seen Kenny naked countless times, in showers, walking around the house, changing. He knew what Kenny looked like. Slim body tanned dark from the Los Angeles sun, and a mess of blonde hair. Spread eagle as he always tended to do while sleeping, arm and leg thrown across Eric's body, clad only in boxers. Kyle stood in the doorway looking at them, mouth slightly agape. The scene was clear. The room smelled of sex, of whatever Kenny was drinking. Their discarded clothes on the floor. It was clear Kenny didn't just come down to sleep, and even if he did Kyle would still feel a bit hurt that he didn't climb into bed with him and Stan.

But the jealousy of him in bed with Cartman far surpassed that, shoving that initial wave down with its metaphorical boot. Eric looked up at him from his phone, face cool like he wasn't looking at the guy who he continuously tried to guilt trip an 'I love you too' out of. "What's up," Cartman asked, and Kyle blinked stupidly in response before stuttering.

"I, uh. I was... uh, coming down to ask if you... if you wanted, er, coffee." Good job, Kyle.

Kenny shifted on the bed, rolling on to his back without an ounce of shame. He gave a lazy wave to Kyle, before holding his hand out. "Come cuddle," he yawned, mouth wide. Kyle just shook his head quickly, messy red curls bouncing against his temple.

"No thanks," he said quickly, backing out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. His head protested as he ran up the stairs two at a time. The feelings inside him coiled and tensed up, causing a wave of nausea to go through him that wasn't going to be stopped. Kyle ran to the downstairs toilet, expelling the wine and fruity drinks from the night before and all the water he'd consumed so quickly into the toilet. The smell itself caused him to heave again and again until nothing more than bile was coming out. Grabbing a chunk of toilet paper, Kyle wiped his mouth as he pushed the button on the top of the tank. He felt better, physically, even if his brain felt like it had expanded.

But emotionally? Kyle washed his face with cold water, and drank from the faucet to rinse his mouth out. Emotionally, Kyle was feeling so fucking... furious. And jealous. He knew it was stupid. And it wasn't like he could even say anything without rousing suspicion. But Kenny and Cartman? Something about that was just... _wrong._ Yes, he knew that was bias purely because, as far as Kyle was concerned, Cartman was his. Technically, he was Heidi's. They were still an item, albeit a long distance once. But Kyle had been under the impression that there was something between them. Even if it was secretive and betraying the trust of everyone in their lives they said they loved.

And Kenny was his _best friend_! Of all the people to cheat on his 'side bitch' with! Kyle hated to refer to himself as that, but for all intents and purposes, that's what Kyle was. Respectively, that's what Eric was to him. And Kyle wouldn't have dreamed of fucking Kenny. Okay, there was a few times in which he had dreamed literally that, but it had no emotional merit.

There was such an angry, jealous feeling inside him that Kyle had a hard time containing himself from screaming. He did, out of respect for his headache and everyone else in the house who was still sleeping. It also wasn't as if Kyle could really express his anger anyway, without rousing suspicion. Perhaps that was the worst thing, what was angering him the most. Kyle couldn't be angry at Kenny, even though he kinda was. And he couldn't explain why he was angry at Eric, which he absolutely fucking was. Not without question.

But if there was one thing he could do, Kyle thought, that was ending this stupid thing with Cartman. If he wanted to throw it away for Kenny, the tall blonde _Apollo_ -looking ass, then fine! Kyle was done with him!

 _Done!_


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_**November, 2018**_

Kyle had spent the next two weeks avoiding any one on one time with Eric Cartman. He had thought he was doing a perfectly fine job of maintaining his 'exasperated and irritated yet amused and also maybe a little offended' thing that he had doing on when they were in a group, but alone? Kyle was firm on his cold shoulder stance. The worst part about it, though, was the fact that Cartman seemed to take some sort of joy in it. Like Kyle was entertaining him with his little game of _ignorez vous._ Which in itself was infuriating, watching Cartman's stupid little smirk from the corner of his eye.

He couldn't avoid Kenny, though. Not without giving away why he was mad. Though Kyle felt a bit distanced- rightfully so- he tried not to let it be known. But Kenny? Kenny knew better. Of course he did. He knew Kyle was being awkward. And probably knew it was because he slept with Cartman. Kyle wanted to scream, let out his frustrations. But who could he go to? Cartman was out, obviously. Kyle wasn't giving him the time of day anymore, cheating bastard. Kyle cringed at the thought, the hypocrisy of it sinking into his stomach. He couldn't talk to Stan about it, obviously, for Kyle himself was a cheating bastard. And Kenny was out, already suspicious.

Grabbing his phone from where it lay on the desk, Kyle shot Ike a quick text.

 _I'm going insane._

 _Why?_

Kyle took a deep breath, his fingers tapping against the screen rapidly as he ranted out his thoughts to the only person who knew what was going on.

 _Cartman slept with Kenny. I'm irritated as fuck about it and I know I shouldn't be but I am. Kenny's_  
 _already been suspicious of us and now I can't even be pissy about it without everyone asking why_  
 _suddenly I'm mad at the two of them. Why would I be? Shouldn't I be happy blah blah blah all that_  
 _stupid fucking bullshit. I can't swing it that its because fatass is still seeing Heidi, because everyone_  
 _knows I don't like her. I wouldn't pick her over Ken thats for fuckin sure dude._

 _Okay?_

Kyle groaned, leaning forward on his desk to put his head in his hand. He could see the little dots indicating Ike was still typing, and he knew it was stupid but he had half expected (or wanted) Ike to just... Console him? Say he was sorry and it'd work out in the end and that he was right to be justified in his anger.

 _You're mad because Kenny and Cartman had sex, because you're STILL having sex with Cartman  
after you said you weren't going to._

 _Yes._

 _You're a fucking idiot._

 _Thanks._

 _Maybe it's a sign for you to end this thing with him properly, then?_

 _But if you're so upset about it, maybe you should come clean with everyone and make a choice._  
 _Tell Stan, tell Kenny, and shit. Who knows, maybe you can all have some freaky foursome like_  
 _everyone at home already thinks you are._

 _You and I both know that's not happening._

 _Probably. But srsly, if it's bugging you that bad, and the thought of cutting shit off with cartman_  
is a painful one, maybe you need to reevaluate yourself. or just break things off with both of them  
and date kenny, he's a treat.

Kyle rolled his eyes, sending Ike a couple of middle finger emojis before locking his phone and tossing it back onto the desk with a clatter. He let out a small groan, and ran his fingers through the root of his curls.

"It's eleven o'clock, do you know where your giant hippy child is?" a voice said from his doorway, and Kyle whipped around in his desk chair to send a glare Cartman's way.

"Yes," Kyle... well, it wasn't a lie. He knew Stan went out. Where he went was the mystery. Kyle didn't want to be clingy and ask where he was going all the time, and quite frankly, he wasn't to concerned. So long as Stan came home not shitfaced, he was fine with it. "Go away," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, turning his chair back to his laptop. He might as well resume his rough draft of his essay on Egypt. He typed, but he typed nonsense. He could feel Eric's presence behind him, moving further into his room until Cartman had leaned down and rested his chin on Kyle's shoulder, arms wrapping around his torso.

"Awe, don't be like that, babe," Cartman cooed in his ear, pressing a kiss just behind it. Kyle shuddered, but his brows knitted together as he tried to shrug Cartman off him. "Don't be mad, it makes your nose look even bigger." Unconsciously, Kyle sucked in his nostrils to try and minimize the size of it. He wanted to cover it with his hands, but Kyle resisted the temptation and kept his hands moving on the keyboard. "I said," Kyle spoke slowly, just in case Cartman was too dumb to understand, "go _away."_

Kyle brought a hand up to try and push away Eric's arms, but the fatass held firm, just tightening his grip around Kyle's upper body. He could feel the light vibration through the desk chair, that Eric was laughing. "Come on, are you ma-ad at me?" he sing songed, pressing sloppy kisses on Kyle's cheek and up his temple.

"Yes," he said simply, trying to squirm out from Cartman's grip. It meant sliding down further into his computer chair, body wiggling. He could feel himself gain seventeen chins as his jaw squished against his collar bone. Eventually he made his way out, but ended up under his IKEA desk. Above him, Cartman was fully laughing now, crouching down as he pulled away Kyle's desk chair to look at him on level under the desk.

"You're an infant, Jewboy," he grinned, and Kyle sat crouched under his desk with a mighty glare plastered on his face. Cartman held out a hand, and it took several minutes before Kyle reluctantly took it and let Eric help him out from under. He thumped his head on the underside of the desk on his way out, causing his look of loathing to tighten on his features.

"You fucked Kenny!" Kyle snapped, and Cartman rolled his eyes in response. Like it wasn't a big deal. That hurt more than it should. Because it was a big deal. For months, Eric had been insisting he loved Kyle and that somewhere, inside of himself, Kyle must have loved Cartman back or he wouldn't be doing this. And maybe that was true, maybe Kyle didn't want to dig into those feelings, but fucking his _best fucking friend_ wasn't the way to make Kyle realize what he wanted! He could feel his lip wibble, the tears stinging his eyes against his will.

Do not fucking cry. Do not. Kyle didn't cry.

But he could see Eric's face change from amusement to concern, and there was a small feeling of victory on Kyle's part.

"I had to," Cartman said, voice no longer full of sugary syrup. Kyle didn't understand how anyone _had_ to do anything. Even Kyle didn't justify his actions with 'have'. It was because he wanted it, and he was fairly certain Cartman was full of shit. But he stayed silent, allowing Eric a few precious moments to explain himself. "He was suspicious, you know that. He came down to my room, and he obviously had a plan. He knows I don't love Heidi, everyone fucking knows that. So why would I turn him away, unless there was something else going on. Something with a certain ginger Jersian who has absolutely no fucking poker face?"

Kyle blinked at him, still not quite sure if he was getting it. Cartman continued. "If I turned him away, he'd ask why. He knew it wouldn't be because of Heidi, because he knows I don't give a shit about her. He's a good lookin' dude, and why would I turn down easy, no strings attached sex with who is essentially a Greek god with purple eyes?" Kyle pursed his lips, not too keen on hearing Eric talk about how attractive Kenny was, regardless of how true it was. He shouldn't be irritated by it, they all spoke of Kenny's good looks like it was a nuisance that they all somewhat appreciated. But still.

"So, you fucked Kenny because you thought it was a ploy to find out if we were screwing around together?" Kyle said, eyebrow cocking. Eric nodded, and Kyle wanted to smack him. Kenny wasn't that calculating. There was no way that was the case. Cartman was likely just trying to justify his actions. "You're so full of shit."

"I'm not!" Cartman defended, folding his arms against his chest as he matched Kyle's glare with one of his own. "Think about it, ba-" Kyle cut him off by holding up a hand, silencing him. "Stop calling me babe! I'm not your babe. Especially after you fucked our friend!"

With his hand already extended, Kyle reached out and shoved Eric's shoulder. Not very hard, but enough to get his point across that he was still mad at this. Regardless of what Eric thought, how he justified himself. Even if it was true, he could have told Kenny he wasn't into him that way.

"You could have turned him away. You don't owe anyone an explanation. You even said, it's none of his business!" Kyle's voice was raising, not quite to a yell. Kenny was downstairs filming some slime making video and probably turning the kitchen into a disaster zone. He didn't need to have this conversation show up as background noise whilst Kenny was editing.

Eric chewed on his lower lip, clearly biting back a smile. "You're so jealous," he said and Kyle felt his face turn pink with the heat. There was no point denying it, though. Eric would believe what he wanted to believe regardless of whether or not it was true. "That's not the point," Kyle huffed, sinking onto his bed, crossing his arms and legs in order to look indignant.

"What's the point, then?" Eric asked, grabbing the back of Kyle's computer chair and spinning it around so he could sit in it. Kyle's lips tightened, eyes going to the ceiling to stare at his light fixture as he thought of how to word his thoughts.

"The point is... you pressure me all the time about us. Loving me and shit, and if I love you. And then you turn around and screw Kenny because you think he's got some scheme to out us? Kinda negates anything you say, you know. Doesn't make me wanna admit any feelings I have for you." Kyle explained, and Cartman's grin was irritating to look at.

"So you have feelings for me," he purred, and Kyle groaned, throwing his arms in the air before falling back into his crumpled duvet and pile of pillows. "No, that's not what I'm say-"

"That is what you're saying. You're saying," Eric paused for a minute, and plugged his nose to imitate Kyle's voice with a nasally, high pitched tone that he found fairly offensive.

"'I'm Kyle Broflovski and I'm a dirty Jew who fucks around on my boyfriend because I'm in love with my other boyfriend no one else knows about and I'm mad he cheated on me with my bestie. And I'm gonna be a whiny little bitch with a sandy vagina because I don't wanna admit he's right.'" Cartman removed his fingers from his nose, speaking normally. "That's what I'm hearing from you, Kahl. That's what you're saying."

Kyle lifted a hand up to flip him off, understanding Craig a little more every time he did so. "Fuck you, Cartman," Kyle grumbled. "We're not boyfriends."

Cartman pushed himself and the chair over to the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of Kyle's feet to help with the process. "We kinda are, if you're gonna be a jealous little bitch over me. You and Kenny should fight over me." He said, trying to get a rise out of Kyle with words and by tickling the soles of his feet. Kyle bit into his lip to keep from laughing, and tensed his leg up in order not to kick Cartman in the head. He wasn't gonna give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Kenny and I are not fighting over you, asshole." Kyle snapped, but one look at Eric's face showed he was already imagining it. "Come on," he grinned, not relenting in tickles. "It'd be hot, like two chicks having a mud fight."

Kyle was about to respond when a loud crash came from the kitchen, pots and pans and swearing following it immediately. Whoever Kenny had helping him film was screaming, " _that's NOT ADVERTISING FRIENDLY, KEN._ " Kenny's laughter, musical, was muffled through the floor.

Kyle and Cartman looked at each other for a few minutes, both of them fighting a laugh. It felt almost competitive, waiting to see who'd break first. And, with a few little tickles on the bottom of his foot, dancing over the sensitive scar tissue from over a year ago, Kyle gave in with a shriek of giggles. Eric soon followed, his own laughter deep by comparison. He got out of the desk chair in order to pounce on Kyle, muffling his giggles with a kiss.

 _ **Late November, 2018**_

"Mr. YouTube is always watching, Kyle," Kenny said, phone in hand as it always was when Kenny was filming his daily vlogs. Kyle couldn't understand how he could do this day in and day out. It was rough enough being included in almost all of them, be it Kyle wanting to make a cup of coffee in the morning or if Kenny simply wanted to stop by his room just to get him on camera for a few minutes of the day.

His friends were cute, Kenny explained. His subscribers loved their little appearances. Apparently Stan was the favourite. Handsome, scruffy Stan who was up to date with the latest trends and had no problem pissing about with Kenny when he was around. Be it screaming Brittney Spears in the car or whipping a football at Kenny's head while he filmed. Stan loved it. Of course he did. He loved attention, especially when it was entirely all positive little comments of how cute he was, how nice Stan seemed to be.

Kyle, however, was not about this life. Even if it was part of the unspoken agreement that they'd all participate when needed. And for four hundred bucks a month? In Los Angeles? Yeah, they weren't gonna say no to popping in on daily vlogs and YouTube videos. Didn't mean Kyle was gonna like it, though.

"He doesn't ask for much, babe," Kenny cooed, and Kyle thumped him on the shoulder with an eye roll at the name. Why was everyone calling him that now, anyway? "Just an occasional sacrifice of time, and Mr. YouTube is appeased with his children."

"Stop taking about YouTube like it's some guy who runs a cult, it's creepy," Kyle groaned, staring into the camera on Kenny's iPhone like it might very well be something that surveillanced his every moment. Kyle shook his head and turned away, grabbing his bag from its spot on the hook by the door. "I'm going to class," he said, giving Kenny's camera a wave.

"We love you," Kenny spoke, voice sounding like the chorus of a thousand people speaking at once. It sent shivers up his spine. Really creepy. Kyle shut the door quickly behind him, eager to get away from Kenny and his all seeing eye.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_**December 16th, 2018**_

There was no need for jackets, not with the weather in SoCal being nothing more than a cool breeze kissing sun baked skin. The boys hadn't bothered to bring them, leaving their coats strung up on hangers in their closets. Stuffed in boxes and shoved under beds and in down in basements.

But winter had arrived nonetheless, not through weather but with houses and storefronts twinkling with coloured lights and displays of wrapped presents and tinsel trees. Beautiful, if there wasn't that nagging feeling of _wrong._ Christmas season was to come with snotty nosed freezing shut with the cold and envy, Kyle thought. So to see blue, white, and silver Hanukkah bushes, reflecting afternoon sunlight with Israeli flags and Stars of Davids just wasn't right.

The inclusion was nice, Kyle supposed. But it lost all sense of meaning when it came along side of a Jewish Elf on the Shelf knock off.

Especially since Hanukkah ended over a week ago.

Kyle shook his head and moved past the window display and down the row of shops, bags in hand. Christmas shopping was always a last minute thing for him. Not that many people would consider it "last minute" since there was still another week left until the international celebration of Jesus Christ's birthday.

Still, it was cutting it close for Kyle. And he hardly had anything to show for it. A few shirts and a couple pairs of comical underwear for Stan. The 'big' gift was the hard part for him, Stan's interests always ever changing. He'd gotten Kenny a camera lens, having sifted through his stash of equipment to see if there were any holes Kyle could fill with a gift.

The thought brought a small smirk to Kyle's lips, Kenny's voice awakening in his mind with a laugh on how he had a couple holes Kyle could fill for him. Maybe Kyle'd set himself up for that response, give Kenny a little Christmas giggle...

The problem now was finding something for Cartman.

Good god, what did one find for the person they were having an affair with? All the movies showed the husband gifting his mistress with strings of pearls and strands of diamonds. As if apologizing to her, saying that without the shackle of a wife she could wear him on his arm as opposed to jewelry. While the wife got a toaster or some other stainless appliance that'd never quite sparkle the same way.

And there was no way in hell Kyle was buying Eric jewelry while he had underwear for Stan. But he wanted to get them both something special, without the weight of guilt involved with it. Anything Kyle got for Stan would be flaunted, which meant in order to not see that _look_ on Eric's face, he needed to get something equal to if not better for him to enjoy in secret.

" _Ugh_ ," Kyle said aloud, slumping against the stone facade of some antiquities store. His head fell back against the stone, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to think. He hated shopping. _Hated_ it. With a passion. Unless he thought of things to get for his boyfriend and his 'mistress', he'd be subjected to spending the next several days bracing the crowds until something caught his eye that screamed either of them.

Kenny was easy. Kyle wasn't sleeping with the guy, and was pleased with anything. Stan would be pleased with anything, but could easily grow bored and toss it to the side in favour of something else. Eric would enjoy something stupidly extravagant but that was out of the question.

With a sigh, Kyle pushed himself off the wall, determined to get everything done before the end of the night. The quicker it was done, the less time Kyle had to stress about it. There were plenty of shops, plenty of opportunity for gifts. Though jewelry was inappropriate for Eric, it would suit Stan fine. Something he could wear, wouldn't tire of and could use daily. A chain of some kind.

Perhaps a ring.

No. The thought of that piece sunk Kyle's stomach, with the implications of it. Even if it wasn't an engagement ring, it was a kind of promise that Kyle wasn't comfortable making right now. A chain, for his neck or wrist was more suited. Besides, Stan wouldn't feel guilt if he didn't want to wear such things on some days.

Yes. That was the plan. Kyle felt better instantly, narrowing down the search immensely. He'd easily find a jewelry store in Los Angeles. He'd passed one a while ago anyway, some little boutique thing that seemed to sell interesting pieces. Stan appreciated small businesses, appreciated things that were just a little different and if Kyle could find something unique yet unassuming..? Hell, even this antique store might have something with a bit of history...

Perfect. It'd be perfect.

With a quick glance into the window of the antique store, Kyle wondered if there was a jewelry counter. There appeared to be a small glass case with the old cash register upon it, a bored looking girl in her twenties flipping through a book. Kyle put his hand on the handle of the glass door, ready to pull it open when something caught his eye in the display window, mostly unseen due to the filigree and logo on the store front.

Tucked on a claw footed chair, nestled in with a group of old looking stuffed toys, sat something of a shade of green that Kyle hadn't seen in years. Mouth opened opened wide, red, with its arm positioned around a Raggedy Andy.

"Holy shit," Kyle mumbled to himself, letting go of the door handle to move a few feet over to inspect the toy through the window. "No way." Kyle had always assumed Liane had made Cartman's. How else would anyone get a fucking frog from some obscure show from Mississippi? Kyle couldn't imagine anyone selling them, how creepy the frog looked when he was a kid.

The memory of ripping Clyde Frog's head off when they were kids surfaced. How Liane must've stitched it back on after, considering the reappearance of it in Eric's bedroom. But Kyle hadn't seen it for years, not since he'd destroyed his toys in a desperate attempt to grow up. And perhaps Eric was too grown up to appreciate it now, or too attached to the memory where a replacement would be offensive in some way. But what were the chances of coming across something like this, some stupid stuffed puppet thing in an LA antique shop? Kyle didn't much believe in fate, but why the hell would it be here if he wasn't meant to get it.

Taking a few steps to the door, Kyle pulled it open. The girl at the counter looked up as the bell tinkled his arrival. He stepped over to her, taking a quick look into the glass case, filled with gorgeous patina pieces and jeweled brooches. There was nothing that caught his eye that he thought Stan would like, most of the pieces feminine and extravagant. Aside from the odd pocket watch or ring, there didn't appear to be much in the way of men's jewelry. No matter, Kyle was here for other reasons now.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked, tone implying she'd been waiting for him to speak first and irritated that he hadn't. Kyle pursed his lips, and looked up from the glass case. "Yeah, how much for the frog in the window?" Kyle watched as her eyes rolled back slightly, and Kyle's shoulders tensed in irritation. Before she opened her mouth, Kyle knew what she was about to say.

"It's not for sale, it's a display piece." Kyle groaned, and heard her sigh in response. "It's the owner's daughters. I doubt she's gonna sell it," she said, placing the book down on the glass counter with a quiet _thud_. Kyle wanted to reach across and grab her hands and beg, if it wasn't weird and wasn't a violation of personal space for the both of them.

"I need that frog," Kyle said, voice giving away his desperation. "Is there anyway I can contact her? Maybe I can convince her to sell..?" There was no way he was leaving without the stupid thing, that was for sure. Not since he found it. There was no way he was going to find Cartman another Christmas gift that'd compare, even if there was that nagging doubt that he wouldn't even like it. It was perfect. It meant something but it wasn't incriminating. The guys wouldn't find it super weird, probably think it was a gag gift.

The young woman's face fell into something sympathetic, and with another sigh she nodded, pulling her cellphone from under the counter. "I'll give her a call and see, but I'm not making any promises. Don't go revenge-reviewing on Yelp if you don't get what you want," she warned, and Kyle nodded, simply grateful for her help. "I won't. Just... I really want it," Kyle replied, watching as the girl tapped her way to the call before placing it to her ear. Kyle couldn't be around to listen to the negotiations, instead turning to wander through the small store crowded with trinkets and furniture. A stack of old magazines sat on a coffee table surrounded by furniture that seemed to be from the early nineteen hundreds. A beautiful set, wood carved into intricate swirls and stained dark, with a yellowed damask upholstery. Kyle wondered if it came from a home of smokers, family donated to the shop when the owners passed and couldn't be sold in the estate sale due to the nicotine damage. Turning his attention to the magazines, Kyle shifted through them, stopping when the stack ended on two vintage Play-Boy's from the seventies. March, 1975. Kyle didn't know nor care about the model on the blue cover. But the October, 1978 one was a face Kyle did recognize. Dolly Parton. Kyle couldn't help but laugh, gathering up the two of them as a small gift for Kenny. Well, they were forty bucks together, but Kyle felt like he couldn't pass them up. Kenny'd get a kick out of them.

Across the store, Kyle could hear the clerk chatting on the phone, voice quiet and muffled as he wandered through. There wasn't a thing that stood out for his actual boyfriend, and he was quickly gaining doubts on jewelry of any kind. It might be better off if Kyle just said fuck it, and booked them a weekend trip on Groupon instead. They could do with a weekend away, anyway. Kyle and he hadn't seen much of each other what with practices and exams, not talking much in order to slave away over textbooks and essays. Kyle sunk down into an old armchair, pulling his phone out of his pockets to open the app and filter through the _Getaway_ tab. Anything skiing was out, as were the ziplining trips up north. A three day trip to Puerto Vallarta stuck out, mostly because of the included airfare from LAX, but the price was a little out of budget and the all inclusive (alcohol included) small print was a bit of a put off as well. It was a maybe...

Kyle grumbled under his breath a little, frustrated already and not even looking for more than a few minutes. Why couldn't something just... stick out for Stan?

Just as Kyle was giving up, the girl called out across the store. "Hey, she said I can sell it, but..." she said, stepping out from behind the counter and made her way to the front display. Kyle shot out of the chair, shuffling quickly over to her as she reached around to pluck the green frog from his place in the chair. She turned, holding it in a way that showed she was ready to give it over to him, yet prepared to snatch it back should Kyle not agree to whatever deal. "But it'll be two hundred, and she wants to know why you want it so bad." Kyle winced a little, two hundred being a little on the steep side. He didn't think there was much chance on bartering down for it, given they didn't want it sold in the first place. And there was no way to really know the true value of it, anyway. It was all personal value, and as such, priceless in most scenarios. The girl could clearly see the doubt on Kyle's face as he thought, bringing the frog to her chest so Kyle wouldn't run off and out the door with it or something.

Kyle could balance some of the cost by sneaking snacks from Eric's stash under his bed, anyway. And he could steal food from his parents house when they all went home for the holidays. Not that Christmas was a thing, obviously, but he'd been in exams during Hanukah.

"I'll take it. And these, too," Kyle said and held up the magazines in his hand as he followed the woman back to the till. "Thank you," he continued, pausing for a few short moments as he didn't know her name. She shrugged, not seeming to care much but Kyle could tell she appreciated it nonetheless.

"Lorelei," she filled in. "I get commission. Calling a friend is an easy five bucks," she replied, popping open a brown paper bag and dropping the frog inside before taking the magazines and sliding them in alongside him. She tapped some things into the register, and looked up over the rims of her large glasses. "So... Why'd you want a Clyde Frog?" Kyle bit into his lip, thinking for a few moments before he spoke. "For someone special. He used to have one when he was a kid, and we made fun of him for being attached to his toys and he... uh... broke it. Blamed me for it, too." Kyle remembered, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at the memory of being blamed for Clyde Frog's "death" at his funeral.

 ** _December 20th, 2018_**

Kyle wasn't sure if the air conditoning was turned up to max to simulate indoor winter, or if the basement was just particularly cold from the cool rain that had sunk into the ground the last two days. Either way, Eric's bed was deliciously warm, from sex and the fact that Eric's duvet was just removed from the dryer and thrown on top of him. It smelled like Tide dryer sheets, soft against his bare skin. He cuddled down under it, just his head poking out, watching as Eric wandered around the room in search of a pair of sweats to pull on. They were the only ones currently in the house, Kenny and Stan left for the day to Christmas shop. Kyle had tried to go with them, wanting to see if Kenny would help him find a gift for Stan. Apparently Stan had the same idea, pushing Kyle back into the house and refusing to let him come.

Something about never getting anything done if Kyle was going to tag along, complaining about commercial capitalism in the final days before Christmas. Time that should otherwise be spent with family. No matter, it was merely an excuse to let himself into Eric's room and spend the rainy day in bed, together.

"Come here," Kyle said, hand darting out into the cool air of the room to wrap around Eric's thick wrist when he got close enough. With a yank, Kyle pulled him to the bed and under the covers. Doing so brought a gush of cold, making Kyle even more eager to wrap Eric up in the blankets with him.

"I'm trying to clean," the other man groaned, but didn't do much protesting otherwise, happy to pull Kyle against his bare chest.

Kyle snorted. "Since when do you clean?"

Eric shrugged, leaning forward to plant kisses on the Kyle's pale skin, down to his shoulders. "Since my mom isn't here to do it for me, and you refuse to." Kyle wanted to think he was joking, but likely that was exactly the reason.

"I'm not a fifties housewife," he complained, tilting his head back against the blue pillow cases to allow more room for Eric's affections. His voice vibrated against his skin, a laugh beneath it. "Well duh, you're not cleaning my shit and welcoming me home every night with a scotch on the rocks, dressed in an apron and with dinner on the table." And Kyle would sooner shoot hinself in the mouth than ever be that, anyway. He had every intention of being the house patriarch.

"No," Kyle said after a few minutes of thinking. "That's Stan. He cooks, most of the time." Vegan shit, but everyone else was too busy or, in Eric's case, too lazy. "Stan's the wife." Now it was Eric's turn to snort, pressing his face into Kyle's shoulder.

"Stan _is_ the wife," he agreed, causing Kyle to let out a small laugh.

"Which makes Kenny the husband. He's the one who works every day, pays the bills, owns the home. What's that make us, then?" Kyle asked, and Eric hummed in thought before biting into the flesh at the juncture of Kyle's neck and shoulder.

"The kids, who are very, _very_ naughty." Eric grinned, smacking hard enough on Kyle's bare ass to cause him to yelp and slap Eric on the shoulder in retataliation. "Gross," he groaned as Eric rubbed the sting away. "You're disgusting," he said, but Kyle laughed all the same. On Eric's end table, Kyle could hear the ding of messages coming through. From Stan, maybe. Likely Kenny, given the frequency. The guy was worse than a double texter.

They could wait. If it was an emergency, he'd call.

After a few more messages, the dinging stopped when Cartan went fishing around in his bed for the xbox controller they were using to control Netflix. Background noise, mostly. Kyle watched as he searched through, settling on World War II; In Colour. He couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Turn this shit off, why can't we ever watch something good," Kyle moaned. Not that it wasn't good, it just wasn't Kyle's ideal post-'chill' Netflix choice.

Eric, however, feigned innocence. "What? It's educational."

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek, inhaling deeply through his nose to curb the temptation to pinch him. Or pull his leg hair, Kyle's current favourite form of minor punishment. "No, you ass, you just want me to watch what they did to my people," he hissed, Eric's face lighting up with a grin as he fluffed up Kyle's red curls.

"Gotta teach you to stay in line, Jew." He cooed, only to cry out when Kyle ended up pinching his nipple and giving a violent twist. "Argh, fuck! Don't make me drag you to the showers," Eric yelled, obviously trying to mask the pain of it with a smart ass comment. Kyle twisted harder. "Say sorry," he insisted, nails digging in.

"Fine! Fuck! Angry little Jew. You'd have caused a fucking uprising, wouldn't you?" Eric said, relaxing when Kyle let go. He flinched slightly when Kyle went to place a kiss to his nipple, as if to kiss it better. Kyle shrugged, looking up with a small, smug little smirk. "Wouldn't have been too hard, if all the Nazi fucks were as easy to lure into bed as you are."

Eric seemed to agree, his face showing his concede. "Well, an ass like yours certainly can end a war, that's for sure." After a brief pause, Eric looked down at him. "Remember when you ruined peace in the Middle East?" He asked, and Kyle didn't respond to him with anything but a glare.

Kyle wanted to argue that he didn't ruin anything, if it wasn't for Cartman in the first place. Technically, yes, Kyle ruined it for everyone by getting involved because Eric was just "fulfilling the prophecy" but... ugh.

"Asshole," Kyle grumbled, slumping down in Eric's arms as he watched the coloured clips of Hitler's speeches. Eric was enamoured with it, understanding every word. His weird love of Hitler was something Kyle was far from comfortable with, but he'd long since stopped trying to stop it. All it did was make Eric love the fuck more.

It was interesting, though. Kyle couldn't deny it as he hung on to the narrators words. Not for very long, however, as Eric's phone lit up before filling the room with the sound of buzzing. The young man shifted, and Kyle whined as he moved over to let Eric sit up and grab it. "Ignore them," Kyle suggested, sitting up to run his hands along Eric's spine. Eric shook his head, brown hair tickling Kyle's fingertips when they met at the name of his neck.

"Hello," Eric asked into the phone. Kyle could hear a males voice, muffled and unintelligible to his ears as he nuzzled Eric's spine with his nose, peppering kisses on top of the freckles that had been brought out of his skin by the California sunshine.

Under his hands and lips, he felt Eric's muscles tense as he sat up. "What?" He asked, voice cracking and Kyle pulled back a little.

"What's wrong," Kyle whispered, and Eric ignored him, gathering a shirt from a laundry basket and pulled it over his head, saying nothing but "yes" and "okay" into the phone, refusing to remove it from his ear as he dressed himself. His tone sounded like he'd burst into tears at any moment, though Eric didn't seem to have a hint of them in his eyes when he turned, allowing Kyle to see his face. For the first time in a long while, Kyle couldn't read it.

"I have to go," Eric said, knuckles White from a tight grip on the phone as he hung up. Kyle wondered if he was going to crush it in his palms.

"Go where?" Kyle asked, voice slow as he moved to get out of the bed and grabbed his pyjama pants off the floor, slipping them on in preparation to go wherever it was they were needed. But when Kyle turned around to face Eric where he'd previously stood, he was gone and Kyle could hear his feet headed up the stairs. "What the hell, Eric?!" Kyle called out, grabbing the nearest shirt off the ground and pulling it over his head as he rushed up the stairs behind him. Once he got to the foyer of the house, Kyle skidded to a stop in bare beer on hardwood floor. Eric was pulling on shoes, not seeming to care about socks.

"Where are we going?" Eric ignored him, pulling the door open before Kyle could even get to his shoes, hand on the hook to snatch the keys to his shitty little car before slamming the door behind him. Oh hell no, whatever it was, it didn't warrant a door shameful in Kyle's face. Biting back most of the rage, Kyle flung it open and stomped out on to the lawn, shoes be damned in the rain and mud. It was a small miracle that Eric had been stopped by Stan and Kenny, having just gotten home apparently.

"I'm sorry, dude," Stan was saying, concern written all over his face while he held out arms to grasp Eric by the shoulders to keep him from going anywhere. "We'll all go together." He could see Eric's shoulders tensing further, standing up taller in the instinctive way men did when they felt threatened or needed to showcase dominance. Kyle stormed over, feet cold and muddy as he crossed the lawn. The short distance had him drenched. All four of them were soaked through by the time Kyle reached the others.

"What the hell is going on?" Kyle demanded, Kenny's head cocking in confusion as he looked at Kyle with narrowed eyes. "Is that Cartman's shirt?" The blonde asked, only to be ignored by everyone else.

"Fuck off, get the fuck off me," Cartman yelled as he shrugged Stan's hands off his shoulders. Stan lifted his hands off, holding them up in surrender as he took a step backwards. He had on his consoling voice, reaching out with one hand as he went to try and keep Eric from brushing past them. "You can't run off, dude. Kenny already said he'd get us flights home. You can't drive there by yourself," he tried to reason. Kyle looked between the three of them, emotions going through everything from anger to confusion to distress and everything in between as he tried to piece together everything that had happened in the span of five minutes.

Kenny and Stan knew something he didn't, and Eric's state meant they weren't about to pause to explain everything to Kyle.

"Let's go inside, we'll all get sick," Kenny encouraged, voice just as soft as Stan's.

"Fuck." Eric snapped, shoving Stan away from him. "Off." Stan didn't protest again, looking to Kenny and Kyle for some sort of help. Kenny just shook his head, but Kyle wasn't going to let this go without answers.

Water and dirt splashing up onto his pant legs, Kyle grabbed the door before Eric could slam it shut. He gripped tight, holding firm while Eric fought with him to close it. "What's wrong?" Kyle asked, voice desperate for answers. Eric stopped wrestling for control for a second, face falling from anger to just... broken. Kyle's heart sank, not understanding anything but hating it nonetheless. "Please," Eric said, face wet with what Kyle hoped was rain water and not tears. "Let go."

Kyle did so, unable to hold on even if he wanted too. Eric slammed the door shut, backing out of the driveway with an upturn of water that Kyle didn't bother to avoid. He was soaked already, what did it matter?

On both sides of him, Stan and Kenny appeared, and Kyle looked to his boyfriend. "What happened?" Kyle asked again, this time with less ferocity in his voice. Stan just shook his head, arm coming to wrap around Kyle's shoulders as he pulled Kyle against him.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes:** I like to leave links/names of the tunes that I usually listen to whilst writing. Consider them a sound track. One day, I'll throw them into a spotify playlist or something.

Take a listen, espesh of This is Gospel (Piano Version) bc if you haven't heard it before, you'll cry.

 _Playlist: Riptide - Vance Joy_

 _Way Down We Go - Kaleo_

 _This Is Gospel (Piano) - Panic! at the Disco_

 ** _December 23_** ** _rd_** ** _, 2018_**

Kyle ran his fingers along the hem of the suit jacket, hung up by his mother on the hook in the bathroom, allowing any wrinkles from being hung in the garment bag to be steamed out while he had showered. The fabric between his thumb and index finger was thick and heavy, or maybe it was just because the idea of wearing it was. It had felt like an eternity since the suit had last seen the light of day, when in reality it was hardly more than six months since he'd graduated in it. But it was the only formal attire he really owned that fit him.

And it didn't fit him, not the way it had in the summer. His mother had said, with a somber voice as she had enveloped him in her arms when he walked through the door two days earlier, that he'd grown. Kyle hadn't seen it, impossible to notice small changes when you looked at yourself in the mirror every day. But it was evident now, as Kyle shrugged the suit jacket on over his shoulders, that it was true. The sleeves hung just too far up his wrist, the hemline exposing part of the leather belt it had covered entirely, earlier in the year. When something had been tailored to your exact measurements, it was easy to feel when it was outgrown. Kyle doubted anyone would notice, though, because it wasn't as if people were going to be looking him. Let alone inspecting if his suit was tailored properly.

No, everyone was going to be focused on the ground. Heads bowed in mourning, unable to find words to console an eighteen year old who had no intention of listening to them anyway. What could one say? Kyle didn't know what to say himself. They'd seen death countless times. Been active participants in it. It always had seemed to have no consequence, no lasting after effects. They'd been able to fix it, bargaining or begging the Devil below or God above. But they hadn't seen Satan in years, and Kyle was fairly certain God was dead. At the very least, they had bigger issues than four children meddling in affairs they never should have gotten themselves into in the first place.

So what could Kyle, or anyone, say to Eric? He'd lost his mother, the only parent he had. The only family he loved. That they were sorry for his loss? That just implied selfishness...

Kyle fumbled with the buttons on the jacket, fingers shaking, before brushing the front clean. Not that it wasn't already, but dust gathered in the smallest of places, and a garment bag was no exception. He left the tie undone around his neck, in no rush to strangle himself.

When he left the bathroom, Ike was standing by the door and waiting for entrance himself. Kyle swore he shot up half a foot since he'd last been home, a teenage growth spurt. Kyle hadn't been so lucky, and at this rate Ike would beat him in height by the end of the year, and probably give Craig Tucker a run for his money.

"You alright?" Ike asked, and Kyle shrugged with a small smile as he reached out to ruffle up his dark hair. "It's not about me," Kyle replied and Ike's face contorted into a confused frown. "Death affects everyone, though." Even if by blood they weren't related, Kyle couldn't help but feel the surge of pride when Ike displayed similar mannerisms. The look that he knew whatever he was thinking was right, but those who he believed to be older and wiser telling him otherwise.

"You're right," Kyle agreed, letting his head rest on top of Ike's head. He wanted to enjoy and appreciate his higher altitude while he had the chance. "But it's still not about how I feel. It's... it's complicated. You've gotta be sympathetic without making it about yourself."

Ike nodded, ducking away from Kyle's hand as he slipped into the bathroom, his own suit folded over his arm. Must have been brand new, since there wasn't a chance in hell he'd fit into his Bar Mitzvah suit anymore. Before he shut the door, Ike poked his head out. "It's still okay to be upset, though. She was your..." Ike paused, nose scrunching up. "Well, she was kinda like another mom figure. Don't pretend you're fine if you're not, okay?" Kyle blinked down at him, before nodding in agreement.

"I won't," he promised with a small smile. Buy and large, Kyle was fine, though. There was that suffocating sadness that came with losing someone who had, for all intents and purposes, helped raise him. Of course, there was. It was no different if Stan's mother, God forbid, died so suddenly. Or Kenny's, even if the blonde had spent most of their childhood vehemently avoiding his house if he could manage it. But at the end of the day, Kyle could sleep at night. Sure, with the help of a swig of NyQuil curb the worry. But that wasn't so much because of Liane Cartman's passing with a needle in her arm, more because Eric hadn't answered his texts. Or his calls. Or opened the door.

Eric was determined to do this by himself, or at the very least, had locked himself away while someone else organized the funeral. Kyle guessed it was to be a simple thing. There was no visitation, likely due to time. Liane had only died three days ago, and it seemed like Eric had wanted to rush everything so she was buried by Christmas. Kyle was surprised that there was even a reception with how closed off Eric was, at the moment.

Kyle bit into the side of his cheek, turning away from the bathroom when he heard the shower turn on. He gripped the bannister as he went down the stairs, and found his mother shuffling about in the kitchen. In a simple black dress, with a high collar and long sleeves. There was a string of pearls he rarely saw her wear around her neck.

"You look nice," Kyle commented, and Sheila held her arms out as she stepped closer to him. Her grip wasn't like iron, like Kyle had always found it to be. It was a strange, gentle thing as she placed her chin atop his head and pressed a kiss into his inherited curls. "Oh, bubby," she spoke with such softness, Kyle wondered briefly if she'd been replaced. Or perhaps the loss of one of her best friends had taken away her fired spirit. Kyle hugged her back, inhaling the smell of the perfume she got every Passover in the "I'm Sorry" basket his dad gave to make up for all the bullshit he pulled through the year leading up to it. It was comforting, familiar. And Kyle was suddenly so grateful he had his mother here to hold him that it was overwhelming. "I love you, mom," he mumbled, pressing his face into her shoulder. The black fabric absorbed the few tears that had welled up at the selfish thoughts of 'what if it was you, what if I didn't have one last hug from you?'

He felt his mother sob softly, a tremble through her entire body as she held on to her son tighter. "I love you too, bubby. More than you can ever know." She pulled back, holding Kyle at arms length as she composed herself, wiping away tears gently to not disturb her make up. She gave him a look over, her hand going to brush Kyle's curls from his hair. "You need to do something about these, Kyle," she said, pulling one away from his head and watching it spring back into its tight coil. "You've got to look respectful." Kyle shrugged, indifferent to it. His hair had never been orderly, and Kyle had the strange feeling that Eric might not find a kippah very appropriate for his Christian mother's funeral.

"I can pull it back," he suggested, nose scrunching. "But it might look to casual." Sheila seemed to consider this, and tried to pat them down. It was a futile effort, she knew this from her own personal experience. She had the ability to twist her hair into an elegant French twist, held together by hundreds of pins, surely. Kyle was neither talented, nor desired something so feminine. "Perhaps you're right," she hummed, gently slapping Kyle's cheek before she leaned down to leave a lipstick kiss on his forehead. Kyle rubbed it away.

Sheila turned back to the counter, and Kyle wondered if reorganizing the pantry was something that needed to be done or if she was simply trying to occupy herself in the couple hours before the funeral. Take her mind of things, keep busy. Kyle couldn't blame her. After a few minutes of watching her work, Sheila looked over her shoulder. "How is he? Eric?" she asked. Kyle didn't respond immediately, trying to find words. She'd worry, and if she cared enough, she'd break down his door and announce herself his new mother. Kyle didn't know if it was a Jewish thing, a Jersey thing, or a Sheila Broflovski thing. Likely a combination of things. She'd done it plenty through the years, even if she wasn't fond of some of his friends. She would stuff Kenny full several days of the week, set Craig up in a cot in the study for the couple days he'd run away from home… Even if she didn't like Eric most of the time, she'd want to make sure he was comfortable, eating, not alone. Kyle almost contemplated lying, not wanting to subject Eric to her mothering when he was mourning the loss of his own.

"I…" Kyle stuttered. "I don't know, honestly. He hasn't talked to anyone." Sheila looked at the doorway to the kitchen, and if she could see through walls she'd be looking at the front door. No doubt thinking of going to check on him herself. Kyle shook his head. "We'll see him today," he continued. "Hopefully I can talk to him."

"Let him know if he needs anything…" Sheila sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. "We're here. Even if your father and I haven't… always agreed with him the past, he's your friend. He's always welcome."

"I'll tell him, thanks Mom." Kyle went over, pressed a kiss to her cheek and gave her another small hug. "I'm gonna go over with Stan and Kenny early, okay? See if we can do anything." Do what, Kyle didn't know. Sheila nodded, reaching up to try and manage Kyle's curls before he turned and left the kitchen.

Kyle didn't go with Stan and Kenny. Instead, he sent them a message in their group chat. One that Cartman hadn't responded to, maybe hadn't even read. Kyle swiped up, scrolling through the old texts as he walked down the slushy street. The last message from Cartman was on the 19th, calling them fags and to turn down the Christmas music that Kenny had been stripping too that afternoon. For whatever reason, Eric hadn't wanted to leave his room to decorate the Christmas tree that Kenny and Stan had dragged in. They had followed it with boxes of blue and silver baubles, proclaiming proudly for their Christmakah celebrations. Kyle had been drinking eggnog and wrapping Clyde Frog in a box, tied with big red ribbon with a big, poufy bow on top. Stan had busted his balls about being a perfectionist, pre-folding his wrapping paper, at the same time snooping around in the bags of stuff to try and figure out his own gifts.

It felt like weeks ago when, in reality, it wasn't more than four. The Christmakah tree was probably dropping pine needles, none of them watering it before they left. The gifts sat unwrapped, and wouldn't be touched until everyone went home after the New Year, now.

When Kyle got to Eric's door, he didn't bother to knock. Instead, tried to turn the knob. Locked, of course. Kyle had expected it. He peeked through the crack, and was pleased to find the deadbolt hadn't been turned. Which meant Eric had only flipped the latch on the knob. With a grunt, Kyle pulled his wallet out, and grabbed the first card he could. The UCLA Student Card, a smiling photo on it. He slipped it through the crack between the jamb and the door, and the latch pushed in. Easy enough, Kyle thought as he shoved his phone and wallet back into the pocket of his suit. He stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. All the curtains were drawn, the lights off.

Kyle hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't… perfection. Everything was in its place, not even specs of dust floating in the air. It was eerily clean. Like they'd just tidied up and left for vacation a few hours before Kyle broke in. "Eric..?" Kyle called out, kicking his wet shoes off at the door and made way to the stairs. Again, everything was spotless. At the top of the stairs, Kyle flicked on the hallway light. The door to Eric's bedroom was open, as was the bathroom, but he wasn't to be seen. Which lead Kyle to believe that he was behind the closed door at the end of the hall. The master bedroom. With a deep breath, Kyle padded down the hardwood floors. He remembered when Liane had the carpet ripped up, so overjoyed when the beautiful hardwood was underneath. They were thirteen, sliding down the stained and glossed floors in socks and on pillows. Stan had fractured his wrist falling, and had an existential crisis that night during the sleepover that he'd never be in the NFL.

Kyle suppressed the urge to slide down the floors now. He was an adult, and this was the day of his lover's mother's funeral. No matter how badly Kyle wanted to cling to childhood, now was not the time. So instead he walked, slowly and with caution until he reached the door. There was something strange about it. He was invading the privacy of a dead woman. But Eric mattered more. Liane was dead.

Liane was dead.

It felt like it was only just properly processing.

Eric's mom was dead. And she wasn't coming back. Kyle wanted to turn around and run back to his own mom, to run to Stan and Kenny's and make sure everyone was still there for their children who weren't yet old enough to be without them. But no. No.

Liane loved Eric more than life itself, and Kyle had the funny feeling she wouldn't mind if he went into her room to be there for him. So Kyle pushed the door open, and sure enough, there he was. Sitting on the edge of the bed.

He looked so tired, sitting there. In his hands, a black bound book that Kyle had seen sitting on the coffee table all the time. Just a photo album, but he supposed now that those photos were precious beyond belief. Memories. Kyle knew what the picture on the front was, a smiling photo of Liane with her arms around a ten-year-old Eric at a water park.

"Go away, Kyle," Eric said, not bothering to look up from his lap. Kyle wasn't one to listen to him on the best of days, and so he continued forward until he was in front of him, before kneeling down to eye level. God, he looked so empty.

"We're worried about you," Kyle said bluntly. Eric's eyes shot up, and Kyle had a wave of relief when he looked like he was going to fight. "I don't want your _worry_ ," he snapped, and Kyle shook his head in defiance.

"Well, that sucks for you. We are, anyway." Kyle countered, stepping back when Eric pushed himself off the bed. Kyle didn't back down, however. No matter how much larger Eric was. He didn't look angry, though. More irritated. "You just lost your mom," he said, watching as Eric's face twisted into anger and distraught at being told point blank. "You're going to get pity, and you're going to get sympathy. People are going to worry."

Eric sighed, dropping the photo album onto the bed so he could press the heel of his hands against his eyes. Kyle wondered if he was holding back tears, and how uncharacteristic of him it would be if he was. Eric never had qualms of crying, especially in front of people. "I don't want it," he whimpered. Grabbing his wrists, Kyle pulled his hands away from Eric's face.

"It's not going to stop anyone." Kyle held on tightly, Eric's muscles tensing under the skin as he debated pulling out of Kyle's grip. Kyle licked his lips, trying to find proper words.

"I don't… I'm not gonna pretend I _get it_ , okay? I don't. I don't have a fucking clue what you're feeling right now, but…" Kyle struggled. "But you can't clock out, okay? Whatever you're feeling, you don't have to hide it. Not from me, okay? Or any of us. We don't get it, but we're here."

Eric didn't say anything, just stood there and stared down Kyle with a blank look on his face. Kyle didn't know if he believed or cared. He could be thinking about how full of shit Kyle was. But he couldn't say Kyle didn't try. Kyle let go of one of Eric's wrists, bringing a hand up to cup his round cheek in his palm, thumbing the stubble that was growing along his chin. They stood in silence for a few moments, Eric relaxing under his touch. The arm Kyle held on to sank, and he slipped their hands together. He gave Eric's hand a small squeeze, and offered up an equally small smile.

"I lov-" Kyle began to say, not knowing that in the hell possessed him to do so. But it was clearly the wrong thing. Before he could even finish, Eric's face transformed from contentment to rage, shaking his head to remove Kyle's hand from his jaw before ripping his hand away. He shoved Kyle back, hard enough to stumble back and catch himself on the wall. He vaguely registered the mirror on the wall digging into his scalp, Eric on him in milliseconds. His large forearm against his throat, holding him against the wall while he screamed.

"Fuck you!" Kyle could feel the spit from the words spatter onto his face. Normal instincts would have him start kicking, clawing at Eric's arm. And he was just about to start doing so, hands wrapping around the limb holding him in place and stuttering his oxygen supply. But he didn't continue, not when Eric did. "Fuck you, fuck you! How fucking _dare_ you?!" Kyle stared up at him with wide, confused eyes. Eric needed to elaborate, and Kyle was just about to ask him to do so.

"Wha-?" he got out, only to feel Eric press harder on his neck and cut the words off.

"Shut up! Just… shut the fuck up!" Kyle wondered if the whole neighbourhood could hear. He wouldn't doubt it. The town was full of gossips, and surely someone wold be intrigued by the yelling in the Cartman household, days after the matriarch passed. "What gives you the fucking right to say that to me now?! After months, _months!_ Of me telling you how I fucking feel?!" Eric emphasized his point by pushing harder, and Kyle let out a horrible noise that kinda reminded him of a cat having the air squeezed from it's little lungs. Kyle's nails dug into Eric's skin, trying to get him to loosen up. In any other situation, Kyle would fight back. But he couldn't find the energy to do so. Somehow, even though it was he who was pinned against a wall, it didn't seem fair.

"You don't fucking _love me_. You've made that clear as day!" Eric continued screaming, face inches from Kyle's and he could see the wetness in his eyes. It was heartbreaking, and it was so very, very strange. Because Eric was right. For ages, Kyle hadn't even allowed Eric to share that sentiment. Then he had, he'd gotten used to hearing it but never replying. He had made it clear. Clear that he loved Stan. Which he did. How could anyone not? But what was the worst part, now, was that Kyle had intended to mean it.

"You don't give a _shit_ about me. You want to play supportive boyfriend?! Go fucking support the one you have! The one who worships the _fucking_ ground you walk on!" Kyle whimpered, tears welling up in his own eyes and clouding his vision. Or maybe it was from being unable to breathe properly… "Oh, wait!" Eric's anger turned into that dangerous smirk, and Kyle's heart sank and shattered. "He spends more time drinking with his buddies now, doesn't he?! Why, Kyle? Because you barely give him the fucking time of day! Because you're too busy," Eric gestured behind him with his free hand. "in my fucking bed, ignoring me when I tell you _I love_ _ **you**_!"

With a final shove against the wall, Eric stepped back and Kyle slumped down, grasping at his throat while he coughed, breathing hoarse and hard as he tried to get air back into his lungs. "Get out of my fucking house," Eric said, voice horribly quiet. Kyle wiped at his eyes, glancing at him quickly to see the red welts in his arm from Kyle's nails. "I'm so-," he began.

"Get. Out."

Kyle didn't wait for him to ask again, darting from the room only to have the door slammed behind him. But Kyle didn't leave immediately, letting out a short round of sobs atop the stairs as he recovered himself. Kyle didn't know what was worse, his own stupid idea of thinking now was a good time to share feelings he didn't even know he had. Or that he'd spent so long rejecting Eric's that now, he didn't believe Kyle's.

Despite everything that had happened hours before, Kyle wasn't going step down. Not now. Not while they stood in slushy snowfall – a strangely warm December day, not quite cold enough for dry snow – watching as a casket was lowed into its new home. Most of the town had come out. Of course, they had. Liane was a staple. A beautiful face that was often radiating positivity. She was a strange one, battled with her own addictions like half the town did themselves. But she had rarely been anything but kind, often too much so. Kyle wondered, and hated himself for doing so, if Eric regretted all the shit he put her through. Kyle would. Kyle _did._ And he made a mental note to treat his family better than he had in the past, because Kyle didn't want to have to stand at his mothers grave and regret.

Kyle stepped forward, his throat still throbbing under his collar, and joined his fingers with Eric, silent by his side. It wasn't like anyone would think much of it. But Eric's fingers tensed, twitching between his own and probably wanted to pull away. Probably would have, if it wasn't for Kenny following suit on his left, linking their own hands up. Stan, without a hand to hold, stood behind and between Kyle and Eric, hand wrapping around his shoulder. From the corner of his eyes, Kyle could see him squeeze it, before rubbing with his thumb.

For a few moments, it felt like no one else was around. That there was no one else in their lives but the four of them. They weren't Stan and Kyle; boyfriends. They weren't Kyle and Eric; lovers. They were Stan, Kyle, Eric and Kenny. Four kids who'd grown up, lived life too early and now had so little left except for each other.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_**April 20th, 2019**_

It had been five months since Kyle had last seen Eric Cartman. They'd spoken, occasionally. Usually only when he replied to Stan and Kenny in that group chat. But he didn't speak to Kyle, not directly. Not since his mother had passed away.

He'd refused to come home, despite Kenny's insistence. It had lead to a screaming match between the two of them on New Years Eve, ending only when Kenny stormed out in tears after Eric had spat in his face that no, the four of them were not family and just because Kenny hated most of his didn't mean he was going to replace his mother with them.

Kyle had stayed out of it, knowing for once when to shut his mouth. Stan had tried to be a voice of reason when Kenny had gone. He'd calmed Eric down, but he had still insisted on staying home.

Kyle and Stan would have packed his belongings up and shipped them back to Colorado, but Kenny had stood in front of the door with a furious look that if 'that ungrateful sack of shit' wanted his things, he could 'stop being a fuckwad and come get them himself'. Again, Stan had tried to reason, but Kyle had been on Kenny's side. Maybe it was horrible, but Kyle was kind of desperate for any attempt to bring Eric back into their circle. Into his life. Preferably without the seething rage, but as the days turned to weeks turned to months, Kyle was willing to take that too.

He missed him, stupidly so. He chalked it up to a lifelong 'friendship', but even he knew it was more than that. Because damn him to hell, Kyle felt like he did love Eric fucking Cartman, even more now that he couldn't have him.

How fucked up was that? It took the guys mother dying to make Kyle finally realize it? He couldn't blame Eric for hating him, but he didn't have to fucking like it.

Though, with Eric gone, his relationship with Stan had flourished again. Though the guilt was horrible, because that was entirely due to the fact there wasn't another man to distract Kyle from his boyfriend. But it was good. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was good.

As he often told himself, Kyle could do a lot worse than pure devotion.

Still missed him, though.

"You alright?" Kenny asked, snapping Kyle from his thoughts. They were out for lunch, celebrating the final day of exams for the summer. They'd done their first year of university, and not died in the process. Well, he and Stan had. Kenny was celebrating a four million subscriber count, and not celebrating not dying in that process.

"I'm fine," Kyle said, running a hand through his red curls to push them from his face. On his thigh, Stan's hand felt like a dead weight, holding him in his seat. "You shouldn't stress about it, you aced your exams and you know it," Stan said, giving his leg what was probably a comforting squeeze. To Kyle, it just felt like a clamp, tightening his flight.

He had to thank Stan for the excuse though.

"You know me," Kyle laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I won't rest until the results are in. How do you think you did, anyway?" Stan shrugged in response, stabbing at a piece of sushi with his chopstick. He never could use them properly...

"Okay, probably. I don't think I failed anything. I just hope I got a high enough percentage in my per-requisites for next year. I really, really don't want to be behind anyone. Chemistry isn't my strong suit." He groaned. Kyle had studied with him for hours after classes the last few weeks, and even though chemistry wasn't his strength either, he had confidence that Stan did just fine. All the exams were multiple choice and equations anyway.

"I'm sure you did fine," Kyle said, not helping the small eye roll at Stan's expense. He was paranoid. He'd do great, because if he didn't it meant that Kyle was a pretty shit study buddy. Stan nodded, but his face stayed contorted in worry all the same. He spent most of the year having fun, enjoying college life away from his parents more than he had focused on his studied. It was something Kyle had almost started to lecture him about several times only to keep his mouth shut. Even with Cartman gone, he was still the voice of his nagging conscious on the subject of hypocrisy.

Even still, Kyle hoped that Stan would tone it down on hanging with the idiot fraternity brothers he had in his program and focus more on his endgame goals. That, and with Cartman being gone, Kyle found himself longing for Stan's comfort more. As he rightfully should, after all. Though there was that feeling of using Stan as a replacement. But Kyle countered that with the internal argument that it was completely normal to want to be around the man he loved. Because even if part of his heart was still in South Park, most of it was dedicated to Stan these days. So yeah, he was aloud to be clingy and needy when it came to Stan running off to play drunk football on the lawns of Greek Row.

"I don't want to have done just fine," Stan whined, violently jabbing a spicy shiitake mushroom roll with his chopstick and shoving it into his mouth with a pout. He spoke with his mouth full, causing Kyle to look visibly disgusted. "I wanna-" Stan swallowed, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "I want to have done well, not just fine."

Kyle was just about to reply when Kenny beat him to the punch. "Can we talk about literally anything else, please?"

"Like what?" Kyle asked, twirling his own chopstick around in his fingers. Not that Kyle minded. He was genuinely grateful to have everything out of his control, as far as school was concerned.

Kenny whipped out a small stack of paper, a grin on his face. Where did that come from, and where had Kenny kept it? Because it wasn't like the guy was carrying around a bag and his skin tight jeans didn't really leave much room for perfectly flat papers stapled together. "My new sponsorship," he said, his teeth vibrant white beneath his smile. Kenny placed the papers on the table, sliding it over with one finger for Kyle and Stan put their heads together and they looked over it. It took a few lines of reading before either of them realized who exactly Kenny was being sponsored by.

"Trojan? Really?" Kyle asked, eyebrows furrowing as he took the papers into his hand and began to flip through the contract. Beside him, Stan asked, "is that advertiser friendly, though? Like, won't that demonetize your videos?"

"Maybe? It's not explicit sexual content. I could dispute it as educational and responsible viewing, if it does get me demonetized. It's not been as bad recently, though. Even if it was, the payout is worth the loss of ad revenue. I can throw in a few plugs for merch, too." Kenny replied, and Kyle looked up from contract with wide eyes.

"Dude," he said, holding the paper up. "This is fucking insane. This is half a million bucks..." He was astonished. A couple of his other sponsors had good payouts, but this was the biggest one he'd seen and Kenny wasn't shy about sharing that info to his friends so long as they didn't open their mouths and spread it around.

Kenny sat across from them, looking pleased as punch as he shoved a roll into his mouth. "I know," he laughed. "Not to bad for ten two minute long plugs over the course of a year. Who would say no to half a mill for twenty minutes of their screen time? I pair it with a giveaway, no one really complains I'm a sell out. It'll completely pay off the house in full, and still leave me with a decent chunk of change."

"Are we even allowed to look or know about this?" Kyle asked, focusing on a line that stated that discussion of the contract was forbidden to external parties. Kenny wasn't phased, leaning over to flip to the page after it and pointing to a line at the top of the page. "You're listed as my legal advisor, and Stan's listed as my manager, which allows me to discuss any contractual issues with my team as I see fit before signing." Kenny smirked, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"I don't know shit about law, Kenny," he sighed, watching as Kenny leaned back in the booth with a shrug.

"So? All it takes is a google and it's not like I have any intentions of voiding the contract and fucking up my chance at five hundred fat g's. You just have to go through it and make sure I'm getting fucked over. You're good at that sort of thing," the blonde said, not to concerned about the legal ramifications that could come with this kind of shit if in the unlikely event that it ended up going to court or something. "I wanted Cartman to do it, but he wouldn't."

"Thanks, Kenny, you really know how to make a guy feel special," Kyle sighed, handing the contract over to Stan. "Can you put it in my bag when you're done? I'll go through it tonight and mark out anything that may seem concerning." Stan nodded, flipping though the papers as he skimmed them himself.

"I'm supposed to sign it on Monday, but I've read through it a few times and nothing seems off. The only thing I want to change is rather than the five sums of a hundred thousand monthly if I can get it either in two batches of two fifty, or all up front."

Pursing his lips, Kyle reached over the table to grab the iPad to order another round. "You might want to pre-film some videos first, at least half before the first payment and the other half after so you can prove you've got the content. They might not want to release you the full sum in the event you don't produce something they like or you don't produce it at all. They want to avoid taking you to court, and you want to avoid going there."

"We can film a couple videos over the weekend," Stan chimed in, sliding the contract into Kyle's bag that was tucked beside him in their booth. "Probably get one or two done before Monday. What's trendy right now?" he asked, Kyle starting to lose sense of the conversation now that it was moving over to video content. Kyle never really cared much about that. He appeared alongside Kenny in a few things that weren't vlog style, but Stan enjoyed it more than he did.

The attention, it was always the attention. Not that Kyle really cared, even if he was a bit jealous over seeing all the comments on how dreamy his boyfriend was when Kyle ended up watching the videos. Stan was personable. Attractive, likeable, funny. He suited the camera well, and had a good rapport with Kenny like the rest of them. But Kyle was stiff and awkward in front of it, he felt. Others seemed to agree, no one really complaining or hating on him when he did show up but he definitely didn't attract the same kind of appeal that Stan did.

He couldn't blame them. Kyle wasn't destined for the screen. Plus, his nose was massive and Kyle sometimes felt the need to just cover his face up in the YouTube videos Kenny had with him in them. Ugh. He could just hear Cartman's voice making fun of it in his head...

"...wouldn't want a big nosed Jew ruining your sponsorship, would you?"

Kyle's head shot up, shaking his head clear of his thoughts. That wasn't his conscious! Before Kyle could properly process, Stan was already on his feet and squeezing in front of Kyle in the booth to her out. As nice as Stan's ass was, Kyle didn't really appreciate it in his face at the moment. So he squished back against the upholstered booth, face scrunching up as Stan's larger body passed by him. "You could have asked me to move, you oaf," he complained, mostly to himself since Stan wasn't listening. He was going to squeeze Eric in the most bro-like hug Kyle had ever seen. Cringe. At least Kenny had the balls to just envelope him with a bear hug once Stan moved.

Kyle stayed in his seat though, blinking up at the other three stupidly. The waitress brought over their second round, and Kyle tore his eyes away from the others to thank her and asked her to throw another person on the bill.

"When'd you get back, and how'd you know we were here?" Kenny asked, squishing himself into the corner of the booth to make room for Cartman. Instead of dealing with Stan squishing past him, Kyle slide out of the seat to let him through.

"This morning, and you dumbasses still have share your location on in the group chat," Eric said, shrugging and wasting no time helping himself to one of the California rolls Kyle ordered.

Asshole. "Are you, uh, back for good?" Kyle asked, hating the sheepish tone to his voice. Hated that he could feel the flush come to the top of his cheekbones. He especially hated that he couldn't bare to look Eric in the eyes, and he half expected Eric to ignore him, like he'd ignored Kyle for last few months.

"Maybe. I rented the house out to Clyde and Bebe. They needed a bigger place than the shitty single bedroom they moved into last year," Eric said, mouth full of food. It didn't disgust Kyle the way it had with Stan earlier. Because he expected Eric to be so crass, or because he was more likely to ignore Cartman's faults? "They're having a fucking baby," he continued, gossiping. "Can you believe that? A fucking kid. Heidi came down to help with putting stuff in storage and shit, and she was having such baby fever over it. All the chicks are, cooing over her now that she's starting to show. Felt like I had to get out of there eh-sap."

"Oh, I saw that on Kyle's Facebook!" Stan's face lit up, and Kyle focused on him when he heard his name. Stan looked at him with such a fondness in his eyes, hand creeping over on the table to wrap Kyle's hand in his own. "They'll make such a cute kid. Nice of you to rent the place. Aren't you worried about them wrecking it, though? Kids are destructive little fuckers."

"I already told them, if I come home and find one crayon mark on my walls, there'll be hell to be pay," Eric grinned, Kyle catching the tail end of it when he looked up from his plate of sushi rolls. The redness on his cheek burned harder, even though the smile wasn't even meant for him. Hopefully it could be explained by the spicy tuna roll, or the wasabi. Or anything but Eric's fucking handsome face that Kyle couldn't even look at properly. Not that Eric noticed, since he was the last thing in the room the other would look at.

"How are her tits though?" Kenny asked, a collective scoff from both Kyle and Stan following soon after.

Eric just rolled it eyes, but answered nonetheless. "Fucking huge already, and she's only like, four months along. Pretty sure she'll have her own gravitational pull by the time she's ready to pop." Kenny grinned, nodding in approval as he raised his fist to bump it against Cartman's.

Morons.

"We're glad to have you back, man, it's not the same without you," Kenny said, standing in the doorway of Eric's room. "We didn't move anything really."

That wasn't nnecessarily true. Kyle had moved a few things around, but only because he'd occasionally crept down here to curl up in Eric's sheets and fall asleep. There were some nights where it was futile, and Eric's bed offered a solace that no where else did. Judging by the narrowing of Eric's eyes as he looked around the room, he could tell Cartman noticed a few things off kilter. Kyle swallowed.

"Well, we've got some videos to film and five hundred g's to earn. I want pizza when we're done, so come up later," Kenny continued, slapping a hand onto Stan's shoulder and funnelling him out of the room and up the stairs.

Kyle didn't move, stood gnawing on his lip as he watched Eric pace around his room, finger collecting dust that accumulated on his dresser. Kyle shut the door softly behind him, hearing Stan and Kenny's footsteps on the floor above them as they set up to do whatever prank call video they intended to do.

"Why are you still here?" Eric asked, causing Kyle's heart to sink slightly. But he wasn't going to back down. Instead he stood up a little straighter, and got a good look at Cartman now that he was looking back. He'd lost a little weight, most prominent in his face. He was still large, but his jaw was stronger and he was standing a little taller. Perhaps a last minute growth spurt from puberty. It suited him.

Stepping closer, Kyle continued to chew on his lip until he was in reach of the other man. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words he wanted to say. What did he want to say? So Kyle threw caution into the wind, rushing closer in the final few steps to toss his arms around Eric's neck like a teenage girl, pressing their lips together in a hurried and hungry kiss.

Was this a mistake? Eric pushed him away slightly, causing Kyle's eyes to flutter open and finally look into brown eyes. "I..." he began to say, not relenting when Eric tried to step out of his hold. He didn't look upset, but his eyes were no longer on Kyle and on the door behind them. "I missed you," Kyle whispered, feeling his body start to shake. Eric must have felt it too, because his hands went to lay flat on his back and made no effort to want to shove Kyle across the room this time.

That was a good sign, and Kyle brought their lips together once again, deepening it with soft movements and nips of each other's lips. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, not pulling away to voice it any louder than Eric needed to hear it.

"I'm not," he replied, just as softly as Kyle had spoken first. Kyle couldn't help but chuckle, low in his chest and quiet in the air.

"I wouldn't ask you to be," he answered back, shutting them both up with a continuation of their kiss. Kyle wondered if Eric missed him too. If he missed this as much as Kyle had. He'd ask, if it wasn't for the fact that Kyle had some semblance of shame. Not much, clearly, but he knew when to not make a fool of himself.

Eric's hands moved their way from Kyle's back, down to his hips where the other man's thumbs teased at the skin under his tee shirt. The gentle touch tickled, sending shivers up his spine and causing an involuntary, breathy little moan to escape his lips and be caught by Eric's. He felt as Eric's nails dug in, both the denim of his jeans and the pale flesh under his shirt.

Christ, Kyle did miss this. Missed Eric's touch more than he really thought was imaginable. If going three months without Stan, many moons ago, was rough enough to send him into Eric's arms, then Kyle was surprised that five without Eric's hadn't sent him into madness.

It was worth throwing everything he'd tried to rebuild with Stan out the window for. He almost dared God to send Stan back down the stairs and see them like this, lips locked together whilst feeling each other's body as if they were learning it again for the first time.

Until Eric's fingers pressed hard into Kyle's hips, both pushing Kyle and pulling himself away. Kyle stood with confusion, hands stopped on the button of Eric's own jeans. He was about to ask when Eric answered the question of confusion that must have been on his face.

"I can't, sorry," Eric said, and Kyle was about to turn and walk away with his head hung in shame when he caught look of something. The slight inward pull of Eric's lower lip, trying to bite back a smirk. How his brows ever so slightly knotted together, framing eyes that twinkled the prospect of a scheme. Kyle was going to point it out, never having been one to let Eric get away with thinking he'd actually gotten away with anything at all.

Though he'd long since learned that Eric wouldn't admit it, nor would anyone believe Kyle if he pointed it out (not that there'd be anyone he'd be telling about this anyway). So Kyle gave in, his own eyes narrowing. He'd know Kyle knew there was something up.

"Alright," he said slowly, taking a step back as Kyle pieced together the thoughts whirling around his head. The only conclusion he could come to was a fairly simple one. He wanted Kyle to work for it. Beg for it. Get down on his knees and grovel for forgiveness and to have Eric take him to bed. No different from the games they played as children, Eric always getting off on such stupid shit.

To Eric, this was Kyle's punishment.

If it was anything else but a scheme to be in control, Kyle would have gladly given in. Like fuck was he begging on his knees for forgiveness, not when it was Eric was expecting.

As Kyle backed out the door, he didn't miss the cheeky little wink and curl of his lips to form a subtle blow of a kiss. Kyle tried to fight the blush.

Well, two could play this game and Kyle had no intentions of losing it.


End file.
